Precious
by Faecat
Summary: Jazz was once one of the most self assured mechs around.  Then Prowl was taken from him in one of his most gruesome moments.  He never could deal with it.  Here on Earth he is faced yet again with a harsh scenario...Moveverse.  Jazz, OC.


**_So, here's the deal: This is the Oneshot Prize Fic from my 1000th review contest._**

**_The Winner was Eerie Iri._**

**_This fic is movieverse/AU. Imagine the characters from the movies, and mostly the events, I suppose, though for the most part they play no real interest in this story. This is a very Jazz centric fic. The OC Angelina Yamira belongs entirely to Eerie Iri._**

**_I do not own Transformers or anything related to them. I only own half of the twisted plots in this fic ~ yeah, the more twisted, the more likely they're mine. ^_~_**

**_THANK YOU TO anasazidarkmoon for beta-ing this for me IN ONE NIGHT no less! You're awesome._**

**_On to the fic ~ enjoy!_**

* * *

Jazz lay unmoving where he had landed. The impact had driven him deep into the ground and right now, the effort of rising was just too much. His processor was stuck on that one image, that one, horrid image that refused to leave him. Right before he had found himself landed in this spot he had seen it...he couldn't believe in it.

::Prowl?:: He called out again, demanding an answer. ::Prowl, respond!:: It wasn't like Prowl not to answer a call promptly. There had to be a reason ~because he's gone~ some _other_ reason, one that made sense, why he wasn't answering. ::Prowl, fragger! RESPOND!:: Still no answer.

The shadows that danced around him were of little interest to him, they hadn't seen what he had seen. They didn't know. "Jazz, hang on." He recognized the CMO's voice, but he didn't care what he was saying.

::Prowl!:: Again, shadows flashed by, there was noise, loud, tortured metal – screaming metal – voices. There was plenty of noise, but none of it was what he wanted to hear. ::Prowl!::

"Is he..." a young voice, a friend. He knew that voice belonged to someone who didn't belong on the battlefield. None of them belonged on the battlefield...well, maybe Ironhide did, but that wasn't the point.

::Respond...:: His processor was beginning to focus, clearing up the shadows, the sounds. Optimus was wrestling with a large mech...Motormaster, a short distance from where he currently lay. Motormaster was the one to blame for his current condition, the one to blame for... "PROWL!" He shrieked even as his vision faded out. Prowl was gone...Prowl was gone forever.

* * *

This new planet was full of life. It was very refreshing...very...alive.

Jazz had come here with the others, though he got the general feeling that they had carted him along because they didn't trust him on his own anymore. Something about denial of reality, or something like that. He couldn't say he really remembered, or cared.

He was happy here. There was music he could really get into, plenty of roads to tear down as fast as he wanted, and the natives were pretty neat in and of themselves.

Watching a large gathering of the natives moving and shouting on one of the planet's 'beaches', he envied them their freedom. He had been ordered to remain hidden. It made sense and he didn't really want to argue with Optimus's orders, they were made with good cause, but he really wanted to be able to just join in.

"Heeeeeeeey, look at this!" One of the female natives had wandered from the party currently taking place on the beach, to where he was observing in the parking lot. It was more than just a little clear that the human was intoxicated, and he suspected that the male accompanying her was not much better off.

She leaned against him, her hands following the curves of his frame, an oddly pleasant feeling. "This...this...this is a pretty car..." she stammered even as the male came to lean beside her.

"You like cars, huh?" His voice slurred, indicating he had less interest in her 'likes' and more interest in something else.

"I like...fast...cars." The woman giggled. "I like – pretty cars." She slid against Jazz's hood slowly. He couldn't stop a shiver that ran through his frame. "Oooh! I think the world just moved!" The woman declared excitedly.

"Yeah," the male agreed, "it just moved a little for me too, baby." He wrapped his arms around the woman, hands roving her body and causing her to make interesting sounds of pleasure.

Jazz felt somewhat uneasy with his current situation, but what could he do? Orders were orders and he couldn't just drive away. He could try to create a hologram and convince the humans to get off of him...but what if someone saw the image just suddenly appear? His cover would be in trouble, so his only option was to stay put and try to ignore the humans rolling on his hood.

Morning came and the humans still lay resting on his hood. He knew he would be in trouble already. He wasn't supposed to have been gone this long. Honestly, he was a little surprised no one had attempted to call him yet. 'Maybe they don't realize I'm gone,' he mused, though he doubted it. Ratchet and Ironhide liked to check in on him often, and if it wasn't them, it was the little guy. They all seemed to think there was some reason to worry about him.

The woman stirred finally, groaning as she took in her surroundings, including the man that lay beside her. "Oh, God..." she groaned again and tried to slide away from the man, but his arm was wrapped around her waist, holding her tight. Tugging at his hand, she tried to free herself, still finding his grip on her too firm to escape. "Hey...uh...hey!" She shook the man vigorously. "Wake up."

Grunting in disapproval the man dragged her close to him again. "Go back to sleep, baby, I'm still tired."

"Uh...no offense but I'd really like to get up now." She fought against his grip some more, but it seemed he was far too interested in keeping her pressed against him.

"I'm still tired. Least you can do is keep me warm." He wrapped his other arm around her, dragging her back down beside him.

"No, I really have to go."

"No." The man refused to let her go, and the woman's struggles began to get a little more frantic.

"Let me go!" She demanded, slapping the man's arm.

"Hey!" He sat up angrily. "What the Hell?"

"I said let me go." She pushed against him, finally breaking his stubborn grip. "I've got to go home."

"What? Just like that?" The man slid off of Jazz's hood, a cryptic look on his face. "You're one of those kinda girls?"

"No!" She screeched indignantly. "Listen, last night I was...I was drunk. You were drunk...I don't even know your name!" She squirmed off Jazz's hood on the opposite side of the man, her hands trembled ever so slightly. "I didn't mean to...I mean, it was fun and all."

"Right. So, just 'have some fun, then run', huh?"

The girl brushed her hand over Jazz's hood again nervously. "Like I said, we were drunk."

Nodding in agreement, the man walked around the car, arms crossed over his chest. "Yeah, you're right." He sounded reasonable, calm. Approaching the woman it looked as though he was just going to offer his good-byes and allow her to be on her way. "We were drunk," he continued.

"Yeah."

"So..." he rubbed her arm gently, "Who's to say we're not still 'drunk'?" He grabbed her arm, pulling her toward him with something verging on an animalistic growl.

The woman struggled, but her smaller stature was no match for the rather fit man's strength.

Jazz couldn't sit idly by and let this happen. His engine roared to life and he rolled forward enough to knock both humans from their feet. They both made sounds of surprise and moved away from the car, looking at it suspiciously.

Scrambling to her feet the woman looked around desperately. The man quickly did the same but when there was no one to be seen, he grabbed her arm again, dragging her away from the car. "Come on." He demanded.

"No!" She pulled away from him and stepped back toward the car. If nothing else, it was an auto-start and someone would be coming soon...or so she hoped.

The man came for her again, but the woman retreated following against Jazz's side. When she was far enough to not be a casualty, Jazz snapped open his door, knocking the man from his feet in his pursuit of her.

Without a second thought she scrambled inside, pulling the door shut behind her and banging on the auto-lock mechanism. "Go away!" She yelled at the man.

"What are you doing? Get out here!" He banged on the window threateningly. If Jazz had been a _normal_ car, the clear surface probably would have shattered under the force, but as it was, it just annoyed him.

"Back off." He stated in an even tone. Optimus would understand; this was one of those 'situations' where the human's safety was greater than his orders to remain silent. Right?

The man did step away, a look of surprise on his face. "What the Hell?" He looked around for someone, anyone, who might be playing some kind of weird joke on him. There was no one to be seen. He came for the car again, but Jazz's revving engine, and the way he crept forward on his tires made it clear to the man that things weren't quite right here and he would be better off just cutting his losses and getting out of there.

"What's going on?" The woman inside him asked fearfully. She had been silent since taking refuge inside the strange sport car, but now that the immediate threat was gone, she couldn't help but feel like this was all a bit too much.

She grabbed at the release handle and shoved at the door. It wouldn't open and she began pounding. "Let me out!" She demanded fearfully.

Jazz easily released the locks and opened his door for the panicking woman. He had no desire to cause her more distress.

She fell out, hitting the ground hard, but she hardly paid that any mind as she scrambled to her feet and turned back to look at this strange car. "What's going on?"

Unsure of what he should do, Jazz just sat still. Perhaps the woman would put it off to nothing more than her post-inebriation and forget what had happened.

::Jazz, where are you?:: Ah, the inevitable call. Ironhide had figured out that he wasn't where he was supposed to be and had taken the initiative.

::Currently? Sittin' in a parking lot bein' stared down by a human femme. Why you askin'?::

::You were due for patrol half a joor ago.:: There was a pause, then - ::Why are you being stared down by a human?::

::I'd have ta' say it's probably 'cause she thinks there's somethin' wrong with a car that moves on its own.::

It amused him that the woman wasn't running, instead she was creeping closer to him again, ever so slowly, still looking around for anyone who might be responsible for this strangeness.

::What?:: Ironhide was instantly infuriated. Jazz, of all the mechs, knew that he was to remain inconspicuous, undercover, so to speak, among the human populace. Jazz was one of the few that he knew could not only do it, but do it well. ::Explain.:: He drew his anger down; Jazz would have a good reason.

::Ah didn't really have uh choice. She was bein' attacked, Ah had ta' do somethin'.::

::Attacked? By a Decepticon?::

::Another human.::

Ironhide didn't answer for a very long time. Long enough that Jazz almost thought the mech might have blown his own processor from the sheer amount of ire he must be producing right this very minute. ::You should have alerted human authorities,:: came Optimus's authoritative tone. ::Is the human harmed?::

::Nah, she's just fine...well, mostly.:: He noticed the small scrapes on her hands and legs from when she had fallen from him. Nothing major. ::What ya' want me ta do?::

::Can you remove yourself from the situation unnoticed?::

::Uh...:: The woman's hands were brushing against his hood again. It was nice. ::Not exactly.::

"Hello?" The woman asked timidly. She looked unsure of speaking at all, but it was clear she had a desire to understand the situation. "Who...whosecar is this?" She spoke a little louder as she asked.

::Major William Lennox and Ironhide are on their way to extract you. Try not to raise any further suspicion.:: There was a clear indication of disapproval in Optimus's tone. There would be a lecture when he got back to base, that was for sure.

::Understood.:: Jazz vented lightly. What kind of slag had he gotten himself into this time?

* * *

Angelina Yamira wasn't a girl who usually found herself in these kinds of situations. She was a levelheaded woman with a good job and a great home life. She had gone to the beach party with some coworkers that were complaining she spent far too much time isolated from the world and hardly enough mingling with nice, young, single men. So much for that idea.

True, it wasn't any of their faults that she drank way too much that night, or that she had laid it on heavy with a cute young man she figured she would never see again. However; she was really kind of disappointed that they had so easily allowed her to wander off with a stranger while she was so obviously drunk. She was definitely going to have a word with them when she got back to the office.

Now, the second thing on the list of things that just never happened to her...she was standing in front of a car that had not only started itself, but had moved, and _talked_. Angelina knew that there were some pretty high-tech vehicles out there, and just by looking at this one she could tell it was fancy enough to be one of them...but there was no person coming forth to claim such a precious piece of machinery. Had it been her car, she'd have come running with a baseball bat if she had witnessed what had just transpired there. Or the night before for that matter.

"Hey," she spoke timidly. Maybe the person who was operating this car was some distance away, doing it remotely? Maybe she could at least tell them that she wasn't ungrateful. "I just wanted to say thanks...for helpin' me out there. I really don't know what that guy might have done."

There was no response from the vehicle; had she really expected one?

With a heavy sigh, she turned away from the rather attractive looking machine, deciding she had best find a way home. "Crap." She had come with her friends and had no way of getting back home. She'd even left her purse at home, not wanting to accidentally lose it on the beach. "Guess I'm walkin'." She gave the car one last envious look. She doubted she would ever be able to afford such a luxury, but at least she could say she had sat in one.

As she headed toward the main road she got the feeling someone was watching her. It made the hairs on her neck stand up and had her so distracted she almost walked in front of a rather large black truck as it roared into the lot. "Hey!" She demanded angrily; honestly, some people shouldn't be allowed to drive.

"Excuse me, ma'am." A man in his early thirties hung out of the passenger-side window. "You didn't happen to see what happened here this morning did you?"

"Uh..." Angelina wrapped her arms around her, could he mean what happened to her? Or was he talking about the party? He sounded so professional, he had to be in some kind of law enforcement. Maybe she should tell him about the guy? "No." The whole situation had been so complicated, she didn't think she could tell it in a believable way anyway.

There was a faint snarl from the rather intimidating looking man driving the truck, but the man hanging out of the window ignored it. "You okay?" He asked, clearly taking in her defensive posture.

"Yeah, just had a rough morning is all." Probably not the right thing to say after having just claimed not to have seen anything. "Got left behind by my friends." She smiled innocently, shrugging one shoulder. "Guess they thought I'd already gotten a ride home."

"You live far from here?"

Angelina had to think about it. She hadn't been driving so hadn't really paid attention to how far away from her house they had come. She thought she remembered it being a good long drive. "Yeah, it's a ways." She shuffled her feet again. She knew that he was going to offer her a ride home, he just seemed like that kind of guy, but did she really want to take a ride from a stranger? Especially with such a downright terrifying-looking man who obviously did not approve of the direction things were going in the truck? "I'll be fine. I can call someone when I get into town."

The man nodded, though it was clear from his expression he wasn't comfortable with the idea of letting her just walk it. "Listen, we're here to pick up a car that got left behind. Let me go get it and I'll take you into town at least. It's too long to be walking in this kind of heat."

"Car?" She looked back over her shoulder. The only vehicle in the entire lot right now was _that _car. So, there was someone coming to claim it after all...but what about the auto-start? The fact that it moved _and_ spoke? "You mean that one?" She pointed to it as though there might be another option.

"Yeah, that's him." The tone of the man's voice was somewhere between amused and annoyed. It was comparable to a father claiming his rowdy child from jail.

"Is it..." how was she going to put it? "Is it some kind of prototype or something?"

"Not yet..." growled the man in the driver's seat.

The other man leaned back into the car, spoke in quite, urgent tones, then nodded his head toward her while pointing toward the other car. After a moment, the other man nodded and looked away. It was clear he would have nothing more to do with any of this.

The passenger hopped out of the truck, offering his hand to Angelina. "I'm Major William Lennox. You can just call me Will."

"Angelina...my friends call me Angel." She looked over his shoulder to the other man. "Is he mad?"

"Perpetually." Will smiled. "Come on, you can ride with me."

Angelina couldn't stop the thrill that ran through her at the thought of getting to ride around in that rather amazing looking sport car; however, it still creeped her out a bit after what she had seen. This man, _Major_ Will, wasn't helping her discomfort any. The military had some claim over this mysterious vehicle? Maybe it really _had_ moved on its own.

* * *

To say Ironhide was not pleased with the situation was a gross understatement. He was blazingly furious about it all.

First, Jazz was taking risks that were not necessary. Which, all and all, wasn't a bad thing, he was starting to show signs of his former self, but on the whole it was not a good situation. Revealing himself to the humans? His reasoning wasn't all that sound, either. He had claimed that the woman was being attacked, but she looked unharmed aside from some fall marks she wore on her hands and legs. It hardly looked like she had needed Jazz to come to her rescue.

Second; the woman. She was not only still there, but she was curious. Enough said.

Third, Will wanted to give the woman a ride home. Now, he couldn't argue with the major's reasoning – if he got the woman 'alone' for a while, he could find out just how much she had seen and decide what they should do from there. Yet, he was going to do so, _in Jazz!_ Not that he had wanted the human woman to ride with him, and he did have to agree that his tact left much to be desired, so that only left Will to talk to her. Seeing how they had come to 'pick up a car that got left behind' it wasn't very practical for Will to not 'drive' Jazz. It just got too complicated when you mixed holograms, and the chances that there might be a momentary falter in the image were slim, but possible. Just because it made sense, didn't mean he had to like it.

All of that was enough, but what really got to him was Jazz.

::It wasn't anythin' big. Why ya' so geared up?::

::This isn't like you.::

::What? Helpin' people? Ah know we're new 'round here, but Ah thought that was our duty.::

::No, taking unnecessary risks like this.::

::There was no risk. She's still 'drunk', she'll forget.::

::Doubtful.::

With a heavy rumble to his engine, Ironhide pulled further into the lot to allow Jazz and his passengers to go by. He would follow to keep an eye on things.

* * *

"So," Will began easily, "what were you doing out here all by yourself?"

The woman next to him looked stuck somewhere between giddy joy and paranoia. "Oh, I had come to a party with some friends. They must have thought I already went home."

"Really? They don'tsound like very good friends." He couldn't help his 'fatherly' opinion on the situation. The woman was probably a good few years younger than he was, she was rather attractive, and his mind provided him with a million horrible things that could happen to a woman on her own in a strange place outside of the public's view.

"They're just work friends really. We don't know each other all that well. I shouldn't be surprised."

"What happened?" Will gave her a momentary once over before returning his eyes to the road he was pretending to guide the car down.

"Nothing." Angelina averted her eyes to the window. It was none of his business what had happened. Just because he was being nice right now didn't mean he had a right to her personal life.

They rode in silence for about a mile before Angelina couldn't take it any more. "So, how did you guys make a car that could move on its own? Is it remote-controlled?"

Will's hands tightened on the steering wheel, silently hoping that Jazz at the very least felt some discomfort for it. "Yeah, something along those lines."

"It's pretty amazing." Her hands were wondering over the soft leather of her seat. It was so comfortable, so warm, she felt like she could just melt into it and stay there forever. "Can you make it talk again?"

Curses flew through his mind. He knew it was up to him to convince this woman that Jazz was nothing more than a highly developed car...without telling her as much so that it looked like he was covering for a military developed vehicle...which was easy because he kind of was. Still, it was a precarious game of bait and switch that he had to play just right. "Ah, well, you see..."

"Oh, come on, it's not like I'd tell anyone. Who'd really believe me anyway?" Angelina pleaded with the major. Honestly, she just wanted to hear the voice again to know that she hadn't been totally insane.

Confirm or deny, that was the spot he was in. If he denied that Jazz was able to speak, then the woman might believe him, yet something told him...

"She's got'a point, Major." Jazz's smooth voice drifted over the radio. Will stomped down on the 'gas' peddle none too gently.

"That's not for you to decide." He growled lowly back. There would be no denying Jazz was a 'talking car' now, so instead Will was left with trying to make it look like a 'top secret' and convince the woman to not say anything to anyone.

"Wow!" Angelina breathed out slowly. She had really heard the car _talk_. Admittedly, she had to say that she rather liked the voice the car had now that she heard it in a normal tone instead of a threatening one. "That's really amazing!" She looked to the man sitting in the driver's seat, who had a very obviously displeased look on his face, back to the radio where the voice had come from.

"You cannot tell anyone about this." Will spoke in his best authoritative tone. He wasn't entirely faking either. It was already a struggle maintaining the 'there are no giant alien robots invading the Earth' cover-up as it was. There didn't need to be one more person out there confirming the contrary.

Angelina nodded. She knew this was big. Bigger than anything she was ever likely to come across again in her entire life. There was no way she was going to risk any kind of retaliation the military might give if she were to even breathe a word of it to anyone else. "What else can it do?"

"Nothing!" Will snapped before Jazz could say anything; however, the woman sitting beside him took it a little personally.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to...it's just that...I mean...it's been a really bad morning already...I'm sorry."

Will felt a little bad. He could tell by the looks of the woman she'd had a rough morning, and from what Optimus had told them Jazz had said, she didn't exactly need someone yelling at her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap. You have to understand that things are not easy concerning...this project."

"Project?"

"Zip it." Will glared at the radio, daring Jazz to deny anything he was saying. "It isn't something I can discuss with you."

"Oh." The disappointment and hurt were still in her voice, but at least she looked like she understood. "I guess, you should just take me into town and I can forget about it."

"That is my intention." The way Will said it made it clear that there was 'someone' who didn't agree with his intention.

"The grouch in the truck behind us doesn't agree?"

The whole car shook for a second before a rough sound that mimicked something like laughter burst from the radio. "Grouch! Ha!"

"Zip. It." Will warned again.

"Sorry Major, that's too good to let go! Ah'm gonna hold that one over his head fer uh long time!"

The roar of the truck close behind them told Will that Jazz was already tormenting the older mech via their internal communications. "Jazz! Leave him be!"

"Jazz?" The woman's soft voice perked up. "That's a cool name for a car."

Jazz didn't hesitate to respond. "Thank you!"

"Of all the..." Will was growing more frustrated by the second, and somehow he had the feeling that Jazz was enjoying that. What had gotten into the normally easy-going mech? "Why don't you just tell her your life story?"

"Hey, no need ta get so geared up Major, Ah'm not th' one that told her muh name."

"He's right." Angelina wasn't sure why she was getting involved in this conversation, it really wasn't in her best interest.

Will didn't know what to say. Jazz was right, and now the woman was on his side. 'When were there sides?'

Another roar told him that Ironhide was growing rather impatient with Jazz's antics and he was pretty sure that had there not been people inside the smaller mech, he might have taken physical action.

"Would you stop?" Will felt like he was mitigating between two children, one taunting the other, prepared to...run... "Don't you do it."

"What?" The smooth innocence of Jazz's voice was not very reassuring.

"What has gotten into you?" For the moment, Will had forgotten of the woman sitting beside him. Right now it was more important to keep Jazz under control.

"Ya might say Ah'm feelin' 'alive'." Again, Ironhide's engine roared, but this time Jazz responded in kind.

"What's going on?" Angelina could feel the anxiety creeping through her chest. Was this how things should be with an obviously intelligent car? Was it malfunctioning? How had it gotten out to the beachside parking lot anyway?

"Jazz!" Will warned, but it seemed his warnings were not heeded as Jazz took off down the highway, easily hitting illegal speeds.

Angelina shrieked with surprise as the vehicle took off. It was quickly becoming clear that the Major had little, or no control over the car and it apparently had a mind of its own. She was impressed and at the same time, terrified. What if this car was malfunctioning? "What's going on?"

"Jazz, what are you doing?" Will decided that any pretense at trying to pretend that Jazz wasn't sentient was moot by now.

"Just uh little game o' cat n' mouse Major." He slid between two semis as he sped through the traffic leading into town.

This, as far as Will was concerned, was completely against the usual nature of the mech he had come to know as a rather laidback, smooth talking, no-conflict kind of being. "What has gotten into you?" Looking back, he could see Ironhide dodging traffic, trying to catch up to the smaller, speedier mech.

"What's wrong?" Angelina could feel her heart pounding, fear creeping into her. "Is it broken?"

"Broken?" Jazz sounded offended. "Lil'lady, Ah'm not 'broken'."

"Just acting like an idiot!" Will finished angrily. "Stop this, right now!"

Jazz's tires squealed as he made an almost complete three-sixty onto a smaller side road. He weaved between buildings, slipping easily down narrow alleyways that would not accommodate the larger mech chasing him. "Calm down Major, we're almost there."

True to his word, they broke out into a small suburban neighborhood and he dropped his speed somewhat, enough that he wouldn't make as much sound as he rounded the tighter corners of the community he was currently terrorizing.

People stared as the small sports car zoomed past, and Will cringed. 'Low profile' was being blown out of the water.

When they finally stopped, Jazz making a rather impressive spin and slide into a small driveway in front of a rather average house, the two humans inside could only sit. Their brains left several feet back along with their sense of mortality and gravity.

"That..." Angelina's voice was soft and a little shaky, "was awesome!"

"Not the word I would use for it."

"Ah believe this is yer stop lil'lady." Jazz opened his door for the woman, a light twinge of regret shooting through him as he did.

Angelina started to get out of the car, but paused with one foot in, one foot out. "How did you know where I live?"

"Ah looked it up."

"How?"

"Jazz has a rather sophisticated location system," Will spoke evenly, struggling to control his temper.

"Oh." It made sense, if it a car could move and talk on its own, why shouldn't it have an overactive G.P.S. also? "Well, thanks for the ride home..." She hesitated for only a second more before adding, "Thank you for helping me, Jazz."

Jazz felt a wave of elation. He enjoyed helping, it was part of who he was, but it wasn't very often that he got to hear the appreciation as clearly as he heard it in Angelina's voice that moment. "Anytime, lil'lady." He meant it too.

Once the woman was inside her home, Jazz pulled slowly from the driveway and headed back toward the base. Now he had to face the consequences of his actions. 'It was worth it.' He told himself, sure that he would do it again in half a pulse.

* * *

::Jazz, slag it, answer me!:: Ironhide was beyond angry. He was beyond livid. He was so far into the range of unbelievable rage that he thought his own processor might melt from the heat of it, yet floating on top of that blinding ire was concern. Jazz was acting very strangely and Ironhide was worried.

Ever since Prowl's deactivation, Jazz had been nothing but a shadow of his former self. He still sounded like himself, and still had that smoothness about him, but there was a cold emptiness that you could just see in his optics, if he let you. Prowl had been important to Jazz, kind of a balancing point; they had both been that for each other.

With Prowl gone, Jazz had nothing to counter him. Everyone had assumed this meant the worst, that Jazz would go wild and no one would be able to control him. Much to their greatly disturbed realization, Jazz hadn't. He simply stopped acting up at all.

At first, they just put it off to grief; Jazz was acting abnormally but they knew it wouldn't last. Some of the younger warriors had even started to take bets as to when the saboteur would finally snap and put them all down, but it seemed it would never happen. Vorns passed and Jazz remained a rather passive, only do as you're told and nothing more, shell of a mech.

When they had come to Earth, he had perked up a bit; going for drives at night or simply 'people watching' during his down time. Ironhide, Ratchet, and Optimus had all been eased a bit by this behavior hoping that instead of 'snapping' like the bets claimed Jazz would, he would ease back to his normal self.

Then today had happened.

::Jazz!::

::What, 'Hide?:: Jazz tone had resumed its more placid, tameness that Ironhide had become used to over the vorns. The tone that just wasn't Jazz.

::Where the slag did you go?::

::Ah delivered the human femme ta her domicile, like Ah was supposed ta.::

::At a hundred miles an hour?::  
Jazz didn't answer and Ironhide could only assume it was because the mech knew he had not only overstepped boundaries, he had left them so far behind he likely wasn't sure where they were anymore.

::Return to base.:: Ironhide turned himself that direction, intending to get there before the smaller mech. He had some words for him, but he would wait to speak them until they were somewhere private. Alone. In a closed building where the sneaky little fragger couldn't escape him.

::Already on muh way.::

* * *

"What were you thinking?" Ratchet stood with his hands firmly on his hips, subconsciously preventing himself from grabbing the nearest loose object available to chuck at the smaller mech. He wasn't sure what he thought of Jazz's actions. It was something he would have pulled with Prowl, of that he was sure, but Ironhide wasn't Prowl and the saboteur had already shown that he had little interest in acting out. What had gotten into him?

When Jazz didn't respond, Ironhide gave his opinion. "He probably wasn't," he growled, half hoping that his anger would spur Jazz enough to make him respond, and half because he was just that pissed off. Jazz hadn't said a word since he had gotten back on base. He wouldn't look at anyone, either. He was just...existing. "What are we supposed to do about that femme, now? Huh? You want to answer that at least?"

"We will have to watch her." Optimus had sat quietly while the two high-ranking officers had lectured, interrogated, prodded, and provoked the unresponsive saboteur. He, too, had mixed emotions about Jazz's actions, but more than that, he was fearful of Jazz's current mood. Even after Prowl's deactivation, Jazz had still functioned. He may have been less enthusiastic about things, but he still did as he was supposed to do. Never had he simply refused to respond. "I will discuss the human with Major Lennox, since that is his department. Jazz, do you have anything to say for yourself?"

They all waited, watching the mech, both hoping for and dreading some action from him. He did nothing.

Optimus vented softly. "Very well. Ironhide, please escort Jazz to the brig."

"Yes sir." Ironhide reached for Jazz's arm, intending to lead the apparently indifferent mech away, but Jazz turned and started walking with no further prompt. Ironhide spared one last concerned look to his friends and comrades. What were they going to do?

Once Ironhide and Jazz were gone and the door shut behind them, Optimus turned to Ratchet with worried optics. "What do you make of this?"

"I wish I knew." Ratchet reviewed his scans again, there was nothing _physically_ wrong with Jazz. Whatever was causing this strange behavior had to be psychological, which was not an area Ratchet claimed any kind of expertise in. "Maybe he's finally coming to terms..."

"Or?"

"Or...maybe he's going to snap." Ratchet didn't like to think of it. He'd seen more than his fair share of 'bots whohad suffered too much from the war, and he had seen what could become of them. He hated to think that Jazz, who had held up this long, might turn down that path now. "I'd like to talk to him some more."

"Do you think that will help?"

"Can't say for sure, but if he'll at least talk, maybe we'll know what's going on in his processor."

Optimus nodded his agreement. He hated that Jazz was in the state he was because of the war. He hated that the outcome was not only unclear, but unpredictable. Beyond that...he hated that this was neither the first nor likely the last time he would see this happen to a good 'bot. 'Pull through Jazz,' he silently pleaded.

* * *

Ironhide followed Jazz all the way to the brig. He didn't bother speaking, or doing anything more than following. It was clear that Jazz wasn't going to do anything, but the weapons specialist really wished he would. Not because he wanted an excuse to beat down the smaller mech – though such an opportunity would not be looked upon ungraciously – but because he wanted to know what Jazz was thinking. He had become very efficient in reading and understanding 'bots through fighting. There was a lot to be heard in the actions of a warrior, if you just knew how to listen.

Once they reached the cell and Jazz was locked inside, Ironhide decided he would push. Grabbing a chair, he sat just beyond the bars of Jazz's cell and started talking. "Why did you do it? Did you want to scare the human?"

Nothing.

"Did she do something to you? Scuff your paint? Kick your tires?" Ironhide knew better, Jazz wasn't so petty, but he wanted a reaction and this was what he knew best. "Or did you just think it would be funny?"

Jazz settled on the simple berth, almost as though he were prepared to wait out eternity.

"Was she really 'attacked'?" Pride was something every Autobot had – had to have. It was their pride that allowed them to stand against unfathomable odds; a sense of knowing that what they were doing was right, that they were taking the moral high ground. Ironhide was a very proud mech, so were many of the others, but Jazz had once been the most prideful among them. "Or did you just make that up so you could play with the human for a while?"

Jazz shrugged a little, so slight of a motion Ironhide might have missed it had he not been looking so intently for _something_. "Ah didn't mean ta scare her."

"Then what did you mean to do?" He wouldn't let it reflect in his voice that he was relieved Jazz had finally spoken.

"Ah just wanted ta make her happy. Ta forget what happened ta her." Jazz vented long and hard, what _had_ he been thinking? "Sorry, 'Hide. Just wasn't thinkin'."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"I don't buy it." Ironhide stood, stepping closer to the bars than he would normally have done after pushing the saboteur's buttons. It seemed as though Jazz was not only going to let him get away with it, but was going to accept what he said and not argue. "Why don't you tell me what's really going on?"

Jazz laughed, it was a cold, empty laugh that made Ironhide's core shiver. "Good one, 'Hide." Still snickering Jazz rolled onto his side, turning his back to the larger mech. "Ah'm gonna catch a few joors o' recharge since Ah ain't doin' nothin' else today."

* * *

Ratchet looked over the records he had been keeping. It seemed Jazz's silence hadn't lasted long. Ironhide had reported that the saboteur had talked with him briefly, and had expressed some concerns about what was said. Ratchet himself had spoken with the younger mech several times, every time coming to the same conclusion; Jazz had gone right back to where he was.

'Just when you think you've taken a step forward...' The CMO thought drearily to himself. He tossed the data pad back on his desk. It was clear that he was not going to see any positive results. ::Optimus, I'm giving medical clearance for Jazz to be released. There is nothing to keep him from duty.::

::Understood.:: Optimus had given Ratchet the difficult task of trying to determine if their comrade was psychologically fit for duty. It hadn't truly been a fair task, but of all the mechs currently residing with them here on Earth, Ratchet was the most qualified to make such an assessment. ::Did you discover anything?::

::Only that whatever bug was in his systems didn't leave anything behind. I don't know what happened, but he's right back to where he was. Nothing seems to have changed any.::

::Maybe it has, just not where we can see it yet.::

Ratchet couldn't help but to be amused by Optimus's words. Their leader always found some 'other' way of looking at things, and it always seemed to make sense. Obviously there was something happening with Jazz, or he wouldn't have acted out, but whatever it was, it was somewhere wherethey could not perceive any change. Maybe Jazz was finally healing where it truly mattered, in his spark. ::Right. So I guess we just keep an eye on him.::

* * *

Angelina sat at her desk, staring at her computer screen, accomplishing exactly nothing. Over the past week she had daydreamed quite often of the car that she had so serendipitously come across. 'I wonder how many of them they've made?'

She had done some 'research' after she had been dropped off and found nothing really helpful regarding the military and 'smart cars'; as she had dubbed it. However, she had found several websites started by conspiracy theorists that were claiming that aliens had come to Earth and were hiding among them in the form of everyday cars.

"Angel, are you there?"

Angelina was startled by the voice drifting near her ear. She spun to see one of her coworkers standing next to her, smiling evilly. "Carry! Geez, you could give a girl a heart attack." She placed a hand dramatically on her chest and took a few deep breaths for extra affect. "What did you need?"

"I was going to ask if you'd finished entering those documents, but it looks like you haven't even gotten started on them. What's on your mind?"

"Oh!" Embarrassment filled Angelina, she had been slacking at work so much the past few days. 'If I keep this up, I'm as good as fired.' "Dang it, I'm sorry. I'll get started right away. When do you need them by again?"

"Realistically? I needed them an hour ago." Carry smiled to show that she wasn't really in that great of a rush to have the documents completed. "Tell me what keeps getting you so distracted?"

"I, uh, can't exactly talk about it." Angelina wanted so badly to tell _somebody_ about the amazing car she had ridden in, but she was sure that if she even thought for half a second about telling anyone, the military would be knocking on her front door.

"Oh? Did you meet someone? Is that what this is?" Carry slid between Angelina and her cubical wall so that she could perch herself on the woman's desk. "Is he cute?"

Angelina made a 'humph' sound at the thought of the man she had 'met' on the beach a week previous. "Oh, I met someone. He was an ass."

"But was he cute?"

"Carry!" Angelina laughed even as she gave the other woman a death glare. "What if he was? That doesn't matter, he was an ass!"

"Okay, okay. So you met an ass. Is that what's got your wrapped attention?" The woman leaned forward as if expecting to hear some great secret.

"No." She could have lied, but Angelina felt that wasn't fair. She looked around for a moment to see how many of her coworkers were eavesdropping on their conversation. "Let's go catch lunch, and I'll tell you." She tipped her head toward her computer, "Unless those documents are priority...I could do those first."

"Are you nuts!" Carry hopped up off the desk, grabbing Angelina's arm as she did. "Juicy secrets are far higher priority than some stupid billing documents. Let's go, lady, let's go!"

The two women left the office in a fit of giggles. Carry tended to have that affect on people.

Lunch ended up taking a while, with Angelina telling Carry of everything that had transpired that fateful evening.

"Why didn't you call someone?" Carry was upset that Angelina had been attacked and no one knew about it.

"I didn't have my cell phone. I left everything at home because I didn't want to lose anything."

Carry studied the woman sitting across from her. She had been the one to convince Angelina to go to the beach party in the first place, so in a way, what had happened was her fault. "I'm really sorry, Angel. I swear that almost never happens anymore."

"That makes me feel better." Angelina rolled her eyes. "Don't worry about it. Like I said, nothing happened."

"Because of that car...tell me more about _that_." Carry had not been too sure about the part of the story containing a car that moved on its own and talked, but the look in Angelina's eyes drove it home. It had happened, and it was fascinating.

"Well, see...I don't know a whole lot, cause the military guy was pretty set on not telling me anything, but the _car_ seemed to want to talk. It was so weird, it was almost like it was its own being. Like it had its own thoughts and feelings, even. At first, I was kind of scared because it just took off with us like a bat out of hell. I don't even know how fast it was going, but it was really fast!"

"What did the guy do?" Carry was so enthralled with the story, she thought she could hear the engine roaring for herself.

"He kept telling it to stop, but the car wouldn't. It seemed like it was having fun racing around like that."

"Then what?"

"Then, we were at my house." Angelina shrugged. "That was the end of it."

"How'd it know where to go? Did you tell it?"

"No! That's the amazing thing, it said it just 'looked it up'. How cool is that?"

"Creepy is more like it." Carry leaned back in her seat, realizing she was almost completely on the table by now. "Wow, Angel, you have some of the most interesting adventures I think I've ever heard."

"I wouldn't call them 'adventures', and really this is probably the first time something crazy like this has ever happened to me."

"I'd hope so! I can't imagine what you'd do if crazy things _like this_ happened all the time."

The two women laughed at the thought. Angelina felt somewhat freed now that she had told someone about what had happened, but at the same time she felt like someone had been listening and now she would be hauled away by the military for crimes she didn't even understand. "You can't tell anyone," she pleaded with Carry, "I really shouldn't have even told you."

Carry thought it over. It was such a fantastic story, but she could see where Angelina was concerned. Top secret government projects shouldn't be talked about amongst the civilians. It could lead to trouble...like Angelina going to prison. "Okay. I won't tell anyone...but you have to promise if anything like this ever happens again you will tell me!"

Angelina sighed gratefully. "Okay." It was that instant that Angelina saw a small silver car sitting in a parking lot across from the little diner they were currently in. Her breath caught in her throat and she started looking around. If the car was there, then did that mean the military man was also there? 'Oh, hell...'

"What?" Carry saw the alarmed look on Angelina's face and instantly thought of the man that had assaulted her. Was he here somewhere?

"Nothing. We're really late, we should get back to work..." She grabbed her purse and rushed out of the diner to her car. On her way, she watched the silver Solstice carefully. 'It's not like there aren't more than one of them in the world. It probably just looks like it, that's all. Some rich guy is just out and about driving his fancy little sports car.'

Angelina slipped into her car and waited for Carry to get in on the other side, studying the area around them. She didn't see anybody who looked too suspicious. 'I really should have kept my mouth shut.'

* * *

Jazz eased along the freeway feeling somewhat content. After being in the brig for so long, it was nice to just be out and about, though he couldn't stop the feeling he was missing something. Of course, he always felt like he was missing something.

::Jazz, report.:: They didn't give him a moment's peace anymore. Ironhide would demand he report in every three breems and whenever he returned to base now he had to go straight to Ratchet.

What did they think that was going to do for him anyway? There was nothing wrong with him. For the first time in several vorns he had felt the need to do something stupid, so he did. That was it. There was nothing to read into it, and he wasn't 'losing it' like the younger soldiers whispered when they thought he wasn't listening.

::Just finishin' my rounds.::

::How long before you return to base?::

Jazz easily estimated the time it would take to complete his circuit at his current speed. ::About half uh joor.::

::I thought you said you were just finishing.::

::Is there uh rush?::

There was a pause, obviously Ironhide was debating between telling him to hurry his aft up and get back to base for his nightly scan, and allowing him to finish up his rounds in his own time. ::No rush. Contact me as soon as you're headed back.::

::Yes sir.:: There was a snarky remark just on the edge of Jazz's processor for the overbearing weapons specialist, but he just didn't see the point of it. After all, the only thing it would get him was more questions from Ratchet when he got home. 'An' Ah thought Prowl was unforgiving...'

Turning for the last leg of his drive, Jazz found his processor wrapped in the image of this planet's sunset. Every evening he watched the sunset, so long as he was able, and it never ceased to awe him. It was always so vibrant and loud, without making a sound at all. It was all the fire of life and passion of the world wrapped in one amazingly simple, splash of blazing color.

The blaring of a car horn brought his attention back to the road he was coasting down. His speed had dropped embarrassingly low for the international route he was currently on and several cars had sped up behind him, their drivers rather displeased with his distracted driving.

Deciding a few extra breems wouldn't be much in comparison to the whole of his rounds, Jazz pulled off the highway and sought out a good vantage point to finish watching the sun sink below the horizon, allowing his processor to drift. There were so many things he wanted to think about, but he always ended up thinking about the same thing. 'Prowl...'

* * *

Angelina wasn't sure what had inspired her to go for a walk so late in the evening, but right now, she didn't really care. It was a beautiful, clear night and the weather was perfect.

She strolled slowly through the emptying park just enjoying the mellow, late summer breeze that drifted through the trees, making them whisper softly. Her day had been a bit stressful, but now it seemed that all that stress just melted and she felt at ease.

After seeing the silver sports car in the parking lot she had been _so_ sure that that Major; Will, she thought she remembered his name being, would have appeared to arrest her. He hadn't, obviously, but it had still made her day almost a nightmare. Every door that opened, every phone that rang, every man that spoke, caused her to jump in her seat. 'It was just Carry,' she assured herself, 'she wont tell anyone.' She only hoped her faith in her work friend wasn't misplaced.

Carry could be a gossip if provoked, but generally, she wasn't known for blabbing everything to everyone. Well, unless someone wanted information spread quickly, then she was a master at the art of inner office communications.

With a half relieved sigh, Angelina plopped onto a bench seat along the path she had been walking. It really was a beautiful night.

"Hey, babe." Angelina tensed at the voice and looked to the young man that had come to sit beside her. The first thought that crossed her mind was to run. The second was to kick him in the nuts, then run. Holding up his hands in a non-threatening gesture, the man shook his head. "Hey, I'm not gonna do anything. I just saw you, remembered you from that party. I...don't really remember what happened but I know I did some stupid stuff and I wanted to say I'm sorry."

Angelina just glared at the man. He seemed sincere, but from what she remembered, he was good at that. "You just saw me?" She asked doubtfully.

"Yeah, I was over there playin' football with my buddies," he pointed to where a group of eight or nine men were still scuffling around on the ground, shouting and grabbing. Then one popped up, something cradled in his arm and he took off running with the others close behind, some tackling the pursuers, some trying to avoid being tackled. Very clearly a game of football. "Anyway, I know you probably don't really want to be anywhere near me, but I just wanted to say I was sorry. That's not the kind of guy I am, and I feel really, _really_ bad about it." He hopped up from his seat and started walking back toward the group of men.

"Wait," Angelina wondered about her sanity exactly at that moment. "What's your name?"

"John."

"I'm Angel."

The man hesitated for a moment, almost as if he wasn't sure he was hearing what he was hearing. "That's a pretty name."

"Thanks."

With a small smile and a wave, he continued back to his friends. "See ya around?"

"Maybe." Angelina wasn't really sure why she had decided the man, 'John', wasn't as bad as he may have seemed before, but truthfully, he was kind of cute, and the fact that he willingly tried to make amends for himself was pure gold to her. He didn't have to. She probably wouldn't have even recognized him if he hadn't come to sit beside her.

She watched the men play their game until the moon was at its peak. It was time to go home, but for some reason she just didn't want to. Still, it was getting late.

"Hey, Angel!" John came trotting back over, breathing hard and sweating from his game. "I, uh, I'm glad you stayed. I was kinda hoping maybe we could go grab a drink? Get to know each other some?"

She shouldn't. She knew it. Her conscious mind was screaming 'no', while her subconscious mind was giggling 'yes', and her heart – betrayer of all betrayers – was fluttering with the first hints of a crush. "Sure."

* * *

It made no sense. None at all.

Jazz followed the two humans around as they went from a small coffee shop, to a bar and grill, to another bar, to another bar, and they were now meandering along the main street having a lively chat with each other, arms linked together.

Hadn't that been the same man that had attacked her? The one she hadn't wanted to be near before? Yet now, here she walked with him like he was a close friend. Had he misunderstood the whole encounter? True, they had been overly friendly, mated even, but they had been intoxicated and from what he understood of humans, they didn't always do what they would want to do normally when they were under the influence of alcohol, or other substances. He had assumed that that had been one of those situations, but now?

No, he was sure he had done the right thing at the time. What had changed between then and now to make things so different?

"Didn't you say you liked sporty cars?" The man asked as though something had just occurred to him.

"I do have a soft spot for them."

"There's a car show going on this weekend. Would you like to go?"

Angelina leaned away from the man a little, looking him up and down. "Are you asking me on a date?"

Laughing the man opened his arms wide, as if to show everything he had to offer right then and there. "I think I am."

"Hmm..." She acted as if she were considering great weights and balances for a few seconds before nodding her head. "Yeah, I'd like to go."

"Excellent!" The man wrapped his opened arms around Angelina and squeezed her for a moment before dropping one arm, leaving the other around her shoulders. "Can I walk you home?"

"I think that's acceptable. As long as you promise not to try anything..." She winked, their previous encounter already becoming an inside joke between them, though it was as much an honest warning as it was a joke. He may have shown himself to be a really nice guy, and practically a gentleman all night, but the tiny little part of her conscious mind that wasn't buying it all was screaming pathetically for her to just turn and run away from him, never looking back.

Jazz continued to follow as they went on. It just made no sense.

* * *

"He's really late."

"So you've said."

"But he's really, really late."

"I don't think stating it is going to change anything." Ratchet leaned back in his seat as he attempted to look like he was studying his data pad. In all actuality, the slate was blank and he was just staring at it. He was concerned, like Ironhide, that Jazz had not only not checked in, but was now several Earth hours late to return to base.

"He said he was almost done with his rounds. I should go look for him."

Ratchet didn't argue this time. Before he had thought of a few good excuses for Jazz being late, but as time ticked by those excuses became unconvincing and lacking for any truth. Especially each continued breem the saboteur did not respond to calls.

However, any actions were cut short as the mech of their concerns came distractedly through the doors.

Ratchet quickly scanned him, as his posture and sluggish gate indicated there might be something wrong with the mech, but all scans came up clear. Jazz was fine, physically. "Jazz?"

"It doesn't make any sense." He stated simply as he continued toward the chair that had become his custom first stop upon his return to base. It was such a habit that Jazz might not have even been aware that this was where he had gone while he pondered the issues on his processor. "What could change so much, to make someone act so differently?"

Ironhide and Ratchet both looked at each other, mixed emotions clear in their optics, but their vorns-long masks of neutrality were firmly in place.

"What do you mean?" Ratchet decided that this was exactly what his duties toward the small saboteur had become, to listen when he had questions, to probe, to try and give answers.

Jazz leaned forward in his seat, seeming to just now notice the two mechs standing before him. "If ya saw someone attacked by someone else, ya'd help 'em, right?"

"Of course." Ratchet leaned back on his desk.

"Okay, but, then what do ya do if that same 'one' ended up actin' like it had never happened?"

His looks were sincere and that bothered Ironhide. Jazz's capacity for mental games was unfathomable when he was on the ball. Even Prowl used to have a hard time keeping up with the mech when he really got going. Was Jazz actually aware of what he was asking, or was this some twist on something else they weren't aware of? "What are you getting at?"

"Why are you asking this?" Ratchet quickly added. If Jazz was going to talk, they needed him to talk clearly so that they could understand what was going on.

"Because it doesn't make any sense!" Jazz shook his head and leaned back in the chair, bringing his hands up behind his head. "Why would someone pretend like somethin' never happened when it did?"

"Well," Ratchet tried to keep his voice level. This was such a strange question for Jazz to be asking, he wasn't exactly sure what kind of answer he should provide. "Sometimes stress, or grief, or trauma of any kind, can cause someone to want to forget something has happened. Even our advanced processors can fall victim to such things, memory files being corrupted and locked down, or simply purged to remove an unpleasant event, feeling, or action from our daily functions."

"Huh," Jazz seemed to consider this, applying it to whatever it was he was thinking about. "Okay, so, what yer sayin' is they might not even know they're doin' it?"

"Sometimes."

A faintly dark look crossed the small mech's face, something that had both Ratchet and Ironhide feeling very vulnerable in the small room with the saboteur. At the same time though, they were a little excited that for that brief instant the emptiness of the mech's optics was gone.

"Got it." The mech leaned forward, pushing himself back to his feet. "Ya need meh fer anythin' else?" He looked from one mech to the other.

"You're late." Ironhide intoned sternly.

"Oh, right...Ah got uh lil' sidetracked is all."

"You were supposed to check in."

"Right," suddenly whatever spark had ignited in Jazz seemed to fizzle out and die. "Sorry, sir. Won't happen again."

If it were physically possible, Ironhide would have kicked himself in the face right that moment. He was in a precarious position with Jazz, he had to act as his superior officer on one hand, and a friend on the other. As his superior, he couldn't allow the mech to get away with disobeying orders as blatantly as he had, but as a friend, he should be more understanding. If every time Jazz showed some hope of crawling out of the Pit he had seemingly fallen into Ironhide was forced to reprimand him for it, they were never going to get anywhere with the mech. "See that it doesn't." Sometimes, Ironhide really hated himself.

"You're free to go." Ratchet patted Jazz on the shoulder. Any further questions this evening would be pointless. "Get some recharge, come see me in the morning."

Jazz left them, walking as he normally did, with his head up and a smile on his face, and with optics so blank, so empty, they could chill the hottest spark in an instant. 'It's a good thing he wears a visor.' Ratchet thought.

Jazz's body language hardly ever told of whatever was going on behind that visor. He had an easy, loping gate that said he had nothing to fear from anything, and his constant half-smirk told of stories yet unrevealed. He looked just like his old self. Moved just like his old self. Yet his voice, his actions, were not himself. He was all but a drone anymore and that bothered all the 'bots that had ever known the mech on a personal level. It creeped out all those who had only heard of him through rumors. After all, what was scarier; a saboteur that chatted you up while he destroyed your very spark, or one that emptily stole away your life force without so much as looking like he was aware he was doing it?

"We have to do something." Ironhide was the first to speak after the smaller mech had made his departure. Both mechs were thinking of how they hated seeing their friend so lifeless, both worrying that he would never recover, and both swearing that they would do whatever it took to ensure he did.

"But what?" It was the same question they asked themselves every time they saw Jazz. What could they do to ease the pain he wasn't expressing? What could they do to show him that they were there for him, even if Prowl wasn't? How could they pull him from this hollowness that he had acquired without causing more harm by doing so?

"Maybe..." Ironhide cringed at the thought of what he was about to suggest, "Some time away from us?"

* * *

"But it has been made clear that Angelina Yamira has not simply let this go." The man standing in front of Major William Lennox was reporting on his findings after the incident involving Jazz. "She has been found to be looking deeper into the 'alien robot' conspiracies and has been overheard conversing with another woman about the incident."

"Understood." Will rubbed at his temple. Every time he thought things might just blow over, it seems they blew up instead. "Optimus, what is you're opinion on this?" At the center of his desk sat a small black speaker box that the Autobot leader could use to listen in on the meetings held in Will's office.

"I believe that further actions may be required."

"What do you suggest? Arrest her?"

"No," there was an odd tone to Optimus's voice, one that Will had come to recognize as an indication Optimus was going to suggest something that wasn't quite by the books, or that seemed so obscure there was no way it could work. It usually did, the mech had a way of making the oddest situations turn out results no one could expect, but that still didn't mean that the ideas sounded any more believable. "I suggest the human be assigned a guardian."

"A guardian? But Optimus, only people involved with N.E.S.T. can be assigned guardians."

"Samuel Witwicky is not a member of N.E.S.T." Optimus pointed out.

"That's different..."

"Yet still true."

Will sat staring unbelieving at the black box on his desk. Optimus was up to something, but what? After a moment, he dismissed the soldier standing before him and then devoted his whole attention to the mech on the other side of the call box. "All right Big Guy, tell me what you're up to this time."

* * *

Jazz sat in his alt mode staring at the small office building, still not quite believing that he had been given this assignment.

_"__Angelina Yamira has proven to be questionable. Your new assignment is to watch over her, for now. Prevent her from coming in contact with any Decepticons and do your best to control the amount of data she spreads or receives concerning us.__"_

Those had been Optimus's exact orders. He had given nothing more, no restrictions other than the usual anonymity, and emergency only situations.

Since his departure nearly a full Orn ago, he had not had a single demand for a check in from Ironhide, nor any pestering questions from Ratchet. He had only received one message from Optimus to verify that he had arrived at his destination safely. They had left him alone. For the first time since...for several vorns, they had left him alone.

Angelina proved to be a creature of habit. She went to work between seven fifteen and seven thirty every morning, took lunch at one forty-five for one hour, and left work between five o'clock and five thirty. After that, she would go home and change her clothes, go to the gym for anywhere between two and three hours, then would return home once again. Most nights that was it and she started again in the morning; however, on the weekends or on certain nights she would meet up with some other people and enjoy a variety of different activities. The only one that bothered him was when she would go out alone with John.

The man had done nothing convicting since his reappearance, but Jazz didn't trust him. If a man could act that way once, there was cause to believe he was capable of doing it again. Why did Angelina allow him near her? Worse yet, why did she seem to enjoy his company?

Jazz took extra precaution during his observations to remain hidden, something he was more than just skilled at, to prevent the woman from acting differently because of his presence. So far, it had worked just fine. She seemed to have lost interest in the 'military smart car' for the time being and was spending more time on things like romance.

He had taken the liberty of hacking her personal computer to ensure that she had found no damaging information concerning the Autobots, or Cybertronians in general, only to find it pretty well spammed with romance stories in PDA format, pictures of her and her friends and the man she marked as 'beau', and some random scenery images. Nothing of great concern. Well, all of that and several images of rather sporty-looking cars. Something she seemed to have a keen interest in.

'Why were they even concerned?' He questioned as he slid from the parking lot he was in to a spot several blocks down where he could watch the human's car drive past on her path home. 'Ah told 'em that she'd forget.' He wasn't sure why he was disappointed that he had been right.

Two more Orns passed before he received another communication from the Autobot leader requesting an update on his observations.

::Nothin' ta report. Th' human's got no interest in us.::

::Very well, return to base.::

::Understood.:: Venting as he pulled out into the street, Jazz wondered if he really wanted to go back. Surely, everything would go back to the way it was, with everyone hovering over him, asking questions, demanding answers. 'Oh well, what can ya' do?'

Screeching tires all around him alerted the mech that something was not as it should have been. Cars careened into one another, crumpling under the stress of impact. He himself barely missed becoming a part of the ever-growing mass of metal because of his swift reflexes.

Backing away, he scanned the area, what had happened? There was nothing he could see to have caused this mass wreck, then it occurred to him...the light had been red. 'Slag!' He had caused this. People were hurt because he had been letting his processor wander.

What sent it all to the deepest, most protected areas of his spark was a large dark semi sitting overturned at an awkward angle, and the car pinned beneath it. "No!"

No one heard his cry, or if they had, they had not paid it any attention. There was an emergency at hand and screams were a common background noise for such situations.

Jazz could only sit where he had rolled to, half on, half off the sidewalk while the human's emergency personnel rushed about the scene, pulling people from the wreckage and trying to save what lives they could. He felt his spark thrum nervously as one rushed over to where Angelina's car was pinned and tried to struggle with the door he could just barely reach, then it nearly stopped at the words of a second man that ran past: "She's not savable, move on! Get someone who has a chance!"

'Not saveable?' Slowly he crept toward the pinned car, his scanners easily picking up the woman inside. She was still alive, pinned and bleeding, but she was alive. 'Muh aft!'

Using every bit of skill, and then some, that he had available to him, Jazz snuck around the large trailer, transforming quickly to prop the thing on the roof of a large sports utility vehicle that sat very close to it, unoccupied, and ripped the car entombing the woman apart.

No one noticed the small silver Solstice speeding away from the scene, nor were they aware of the passenger it stole from the wreckage.

* * *

"Jazz? What's going on?" Ratchet was surprised to find the mech in his med bay, though he looked like he had been waiting for the medic. "Are you injured? I heard about a wreck in the area you were stationed..."

"Nah, Ah'm fine. Just figured ya wanted ta see meh when Ah got in...like usual."

"Ah, well, that makes sense I suppose." Ratchet indicated that Jazz could lead the way to his office, where they normally would sit and discuss whatever Ratchet could get Jazz to talk about.

"If ya' don't mind, Ah'd like ta make this quick. Ah'm tired."

Ratchet nodded. Jazz didn't look tired, but his systems showed signs of fatigue and he was sure the mech would want to recharge on a berth instead of in his alt mode on pavement for a night. "Okay. Well, how did the mission go?"

"Bust. Nothin' to worry about, just like Ah said."

"Right." So Jazz was feeling just as talkative as ever apparently. "And how are you feeling?"

"Tired."

Stifling the annoyance Ratchet felt that moment, he decided that if the 'actual' mission had been a success, it wasn't showing. Jazz seemed just as closed off as always. "All right. Report to me in the morning then."

"Thanks Ratch'." The mech rushed off.

The mech rushed off... ::Ironhide, did Jazz report to you when he got in?::

::No, why?::

::I just wanted another opinion on his demeanor.::

::Was it a success?:: There was a note of hope to Ironhide's voice, though it was covered deeply by the dread of hoping only to be disappointed.

::Unsure, but he just blew me off...that's good, right?::

* * *

Jazz was careful not to rush too quickly through the hallways. He couldn't have anyone thinking something was wrong. Still he hurried. There wasn't a lot of time.

Almost bouncing in front of his door as he waited for it to slide out of the way, Jazz noted the curious looks he was getting. He actively stalled his motions, being sure to take a half a klik to wave to a few people he knew. Let them think he was just in a good mood. That would be fine for now.

Once he was inside, he engaged the locks on his door and crept over to a small storage unit that he had been provided for personal affects, and carefully opened the doors. "Hey, Ah'm back, just like Ah promised..." Inside laid the woman he had torn from the mangled car. She wasn't injured badly, but she was bleeding and unconscious and he knew that didn't speak well for her condition.

Quickly unsubspacing the items he had acquired from Ratchet's stores before the medic had interrupted him, Jazz set to doing what he could for the human. He wasn't a medic, by any stretch of the programming, but he knew the basics and the internet was fantastic for instruction on how to treat a human. "Ah'm gonna help ya. Yer gonna be okay."

The guilt running through Jazz's systems was cold, it was intense and it was familiar. He'd felt this before, still felt it but he thought he had become numb to it. Now it was here again and he had a chance to make amends for it.

::Jazz, you're overdue for your report.::

::Can it, Pr... 'Hide. Ah'll catch ya in uh few.:: Jazz observed his work. He had stopped all the bleeding, braced a broken leg and splinted a hand that was rather torn. He had done everything in his capacity and now he could only wait and see if the woman woke.

::What did you say?:: Ironhide's voice clearly showed the shock and disbelief he felt for the way Jazz had spoken to him.

::Ah said; Ah'm busy.:: Tucking blankets around the woman he tried to think of what else he could do for her. He should go talk to Ironhide, it would only be a matter of time before the mech came to him to introduce his face to a nearby wall for his attitude, but he just couldn't. Not until he knew Angelina would be okay. Walking backward so he didn't have to take his optics off of the human that he was responsible for, Jazz sat on his berth, pulling his legs up so he could sit comfortably and keep a scanner on her life force. Ironhide could wait.

* * *

"He almost called me 'Prowl'." Ironhide leaned against a wall in Ratchet's office. They had called an impromptu meeting after Jazz's rather unusual actions. "Then he said he was busy. Any idea what he's up to?"

"None. He was in a hurry to get out of here even though he was here waiting for me when I got here." Ratchet shifted in his chair. There was something to this, he just knew it.

"Waiting for you?" Optimus stood with his arms crossed, listening intently to what his subordinates had to say.

"Yeah, said he figured that it had become a routine that he check in with me first thing when he got to base. He just wanted to get it done and over with, said he was tired."

All three nodded a little. It would make sense that the mech would be tired, but that didn't explain his very short conversation with Ironhide.

"But he never reported to you, Ironhide?" Optimus continued.

"No."

"So he had time to wait for Ratchet, but no time to report mission status. Something about that does not seem right." Optimus shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking over the med bay from the large open windows of Ratchet's office. "Where was he waiting for you?"

"He was near the storage units, leaning on a berth. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"Except that he would normally report straight to your office when he was waiting for you," Optimus pointed out. "Was he injured?"

"Not that I scanned."

"What are you thinking, Optimus?" Ironhide could see there was a pattern to Optimus's thoughts. Jazz wasn't just acting a little peculiar, they just hadn't noticed the less obvious inconsistencies. What did it mean though?

"That perhaps meeting with Ratchet was not Jazz's true intention."

* * *

Jazz was not surprised by the call signal at his door. He hadn't answered anyone's comms, it was only a matter of time before they would come find him.

It had only been a joor since he had locked himself in his room, hardly long enough for a good recharge cycle, yet he had not moved even an inch since he had sat down.

Angelina had not moved either, but her life force was not fading. Had he saved her? He dared not hope that he had, not yet. He had made that mistake before only to...

"Jazz?" Optimus stood before the locked door. It wasn't abnormal for the saboteur to lock his quarters, he suspected it was from vorns of working in the shadows, he just preferred to keep his privacy private. Still, he felt uncomfortable being kept from entry. There was something not adding up and he was sure that if he just opened the door, he would know what it was. "Jazz, I need to speak with you."

He waited, but there was still no answer. As much as he hated it, Optimus knew that he would have to use his personal override code to gain access. He normally avoided using the code, providing his soldiers with a sense of security in their quarters, but certain situations called for that personal zone to be crossed.

Tapping in the code, he paused with his hand hovering over the 'enter' symbol. "Jazz?" Still no answer. He tried to convince himself that he could just walk away; Jazz was probably just recharging...heavily, but a nagging sensation near the front of his processor would not allow that. Pressing the symbol, Optimus prepared himself to see any number of things; however, what he did see stunned him.

There was nothing out of place and Jazz lay seemingly completely in recharge on his berth, looking as though he may have barely even gotten to his berth before the cycle had begun.

He wasn't sure what he had expected to see, but this most certainly wasn't it.

Just to be sure, he scanned the surroundings, looking for anything out of place, anything that might clue the Autobot leader into what was truly going on. The room was simple, most of them had lost a great deal of anything they would have kept as personal items long ago, so that was nothing out of place here. Though, the way Jazz had taken to keeping things very neat and put away was a habit he had not picked up until sometime after Prowl's deactivation, it had become normal.

There was nothing to be seen. Jazz had simply come to his quarters and fallen into recharge, just like he had told himself the mech had done. It seemed...strange.

Retreating from the saboteur's quarters, Optimus reengaged the locks and headed back to his office. He would just have to see to Jazz when his recharge cycle was over.

"So?" Optimus wasn't surprised as his weapons specialist came up beside him. Despite Ironhide's tough nature, he cared about the mechs around him. Jazz had been a good friend for a long time and he was worried.

"He was recharging."

"Recharging," Ironhide inclined his head slowly, that's what they had all hoped for, but still..."Jazz never recharges deeply enough to not answer his comm."

"Apparently today, he does."

"I don't get a good feeling about this, Optimus."

* * *

The first thing Angelina became aware of was pain. Pain in her head, in her leg, in her arm, everywhere. She hurt badly.

'What happened?' She tried to get her thoughts together, what _had_ happened? She had been driving home when suddenly she heard this horrible sound and then...and then nothing.

The next question to come to her mind was; 'where am I?' She could feel she was laying on something soft, and she had plenty of blankets wrapped around her, but other than that? She couldn't see anything.

"H-hello?" She tried to free herself from the blankets surrounding her, but that only caused more pain. So she was left to her voice. "Is anyone there?"

A shaft of light nearly blinded Angelina, causing her to whimper with new pain in her head.

"Hey, lil'lady, yer awake?" The voice was soft, barely a whisper, and it was pleasant.

Angelina thought she recognized the voice, but couldn't think of from where. It didn't help that the pain shooting through her head was too intense for her to focus on anything. "Where am I?"

"Yer safe. Do ya remember what happened?"

"No."

"Ya were in an accident. Got hurt pretty bad, but yer gonna be okay. Ah'm gonna take care of ya."

"Who are you?" Angelina tried squinting her eyes against the painful light to see who this caretaker was. For a while, it seemed as though she wouldn't get an answer to her question as the silence stretched on. "Hello?" She still couldn't see past the light, but she could tell there was someone there, a shadow hovering nearby.

"Ah'm Jazz." The shadow vanished for a moment, then returned. "Hey, Ah gotta go fer uh while, ya should try an get some rest, okay? Ah'll be back."

"Wait!" The darkness resumed and Angelina knew she was alone again. "Where am I?" Silence answered her.

The thing about being alone after finding out you were in an accident is that your brain turns back time, trying to fit together pieces. The wreck came back to her, and she marveled at the thought that she was even alive. She could only assume Jazz had been the one to rescue her, if he was the one taking care of her now.

Jazz. That name sounded very familiar. Where had she heard it before? Not only that, but the voice was familiar too.

The ache of her body became too much and Angelina had to giveinto its demands for sleep. She could figure everything out later.

* * *

As time passed, Jazz worked diligently on some 'secret project' that had everyone's curiosity piqued. He never spoke of it, but he would search through human building scraps and carry off bits and pieces.

It had been brought up in a few meetings that someone should check to see what the saboteur was up to; however, none of the Autobots wanted to intrude on the small mech's privacy. He had been more spirited over the past several days and they didn't want to spoil it. Optimus decreed that as long as the mech continued to do his duties unhindered and that he caused no harm to anyone, he would be left to his project and his peace.

Jazz had ceased attempt to keep the fact that he _was_ up to something a secret. It was easier to keep his real secret to himself if the others were more focused on the fact that he was doing something extra-curricular.

What he had truly been up to was accommodating the human woman that was currently residing in his storage unit. It had quickly become clear that she was going to take time to fully recover. He waged with himself almost every klik over whether or not to hand the human over to Ratchet, or to the human medics to care for her...but what if something happened? He was too afraid of letting go of her now. He was afraid she would fade away while he wasn't looking, just like...

Looking over his handiwork, Jazz felt a bit of pride. He had created the equivalent of what the humans termed a 'town house' in his storage unit, complete with most amenities. There was only so much a mech programmed in the art of sabotage could do with primitive construction supplies. Granted, the human wouldn't be able to make much use of the upper level – where he had created a rather nice bedroom and sitting area – until she was able to walk again. Right now, the state of her still-broken leg kept her restricted to the first level, but that contained everything she needed to survive comfortably.

"Jazz...I don't mean to sound ungrateful," Angelina looked at the strange robot standing at the walls turned doors to her strange dollhouse-like arrangement, "but, when are you going to let me go?" She had questioned the robot since the moment she had realized he and the 'smart car' that had shared his name were one and the same. His intentions seemed good. He had saved her from the wreckage that he seemed to believe her own race had left her for dead in. Then he had spent days tending to her, until she had been capable of at least taking care of her own base needs. She was somewhat embarrassed to think of what he had to of done for her.

"Just as soon as yer healed, lil'lady. Wouldn't be right o' meh ta send ya out while yer still broken." Jazz was placing small bits of furniture he had acquired for the woman inside the storage unit. He had every intention of upholding his word, but that didn't mean he couldn't make her as comfortable as possible.

"I'm not a toy, Jazz. I'm not 'broken'." Angelina hobbled on the crutches Jazz had given to her some days ago. It was hard to manage them with an injured hand, but somehow she managed. "Does anyone even know I'm here?"

"Anyone as in who? Th' humans tha' left ya fer dead?" Jazz didn't know why he felt angry that she wanted someone to know where she was, that she was alive, but it did. He felt protective over her and the humans had abandoned her. Didn't that mean he had no obligation to inform them of her survival? What would they care anyway?

"Like John, for instance? He's got to be worried sick!"

Jazz made a huffing sound. "Tha' fleshbag isn't worth yer time."

It was moments like these that bothered Angelina the most. Jazz was a very friendly robot, but he seemed far too overbearing for her comfort. She couldn't help but to think of those movies with the 'smart house' that turned against the people that lived in it, claiming it wanted nothing but the best for them, but was hurting them by doing so. Robots just couldn't understand the more human aspects of life, like needing to be near other people. "That's not for you to decide for me. He cares about me, and I care about him. I think he at least deserves to know that I'm alive, if nothing else."

Grumbling to himself, Jazz nodded his head. "I'll send him uh message...what do ya want meh ta say?"

Angelina sighed with relief. This was a step in the right direction to gaining her freedom. "Just tell him that I'm alive, and that I'll see him soon." It was half a message to John, half a message to Jazz. She had every intention of leaving, sooner rather than later, no matter what Jazz said.

"All right." He had every intention of sending the message Angelina requested. It was her right, after all, to contact others of her race. 'But why _him_?' He wondered irritably.

* * *

A few more weeks had passed before Angelina was walking without the crutches. She still hobbled and grew tired quickly, but at least she could put weight on her leg again. Though this was a fact she had hidden from her robot caretaker.

Jazz was a nice robot, he had a great personality and when he would just sit and talk to her for hours, they had a good time, but overall – he was still a robot and he kind of scared her.

So, when he was gone – which was sometimes for days at a time – she searched for a way out. He locked the 'doors' to her dollhouse home, but she had found a spot where he had wired some cables through – to give her electricity – that was not completely sealed off. Days of working at the hole and hiding the scrap she created from it had left her with a hole big enough for her to squeeze through and a couch that teetered on a hill of trash that was just barely hidden beneath its skirt. She wasn't quite ready to make her escape just yet, but it was comforting knowing that she was able to when she was.

"If only I knew _where_ I was..." All she knew was that she was wherever Jazz had brought her; where he went to rest – 'recharge' he called it. Assuming that he was a military machine, it was safe to also assume that she was on a military base, but why did others not check this robot's housing? Didn't they do maintenance or something? How was it that they had developed a machine that could kidnap a human and hide her away without them ever knowing? It was scary, and she thought she really needed to make sure the world knew about it. However, that was in the future. Right now, she had to focus on being able to make that escape.

She flexed her hand again, it was stiff, and would lock up on her sometimes, but over all she had most of the function of it back. Then she stretched her legs, trying to release the knots that had built up in them from what she could only assume was a month of very restricted exercise. It was going to take some time to build up her endurance, but as long as Jazz was not posing an open threat to her, she would keep working at it until she was confident that her body wouldn't fail her in the middle of her attempt.

The familiar sound of the 'door' to the robots housing unit opening alerted Angelina that she needed to resume her 'immobile' act. She swept up the crutches and quickly settled on a chair that she had grown somewhat fond of, leaning the crutches on the wall next to her. A moment later, the door to her current home also opened, revealing the robot and a rather annoyed expression.

"What's the matter, Jazz?"

"Ah contacted that human for ya."

"That was over two weeks ago!" Angelina was somewhat angered that it had taken so long for the robot to convey a short message, but then again, she didn't know how he would be able to send the message in the first place. Maybe he had to go through a lot of trouble to do it.

"Ah know," Jazz returned to his berth, leaning against the wall. Originally, he had simply intended to send a short text message to the man's phone, telling him that Angelina was alive and that she would be okay. What he had ended up with was a text war with the man demanding to know a location, and details, who was contacting him, and why he hadn't been contacted sooner. Jazz had tried to just ignore the return messages, but the man was persistent. "Ah did what Ah said Ah'd do."

"What did he say?" She was anxious to hear that John had been grief stricken to think her dead, that he had been so ultimately relieved to hear that she was alive, and maybe some positive 'get well' message.

"He said he was gonna find out who Ah was an' sue meh fer everythin' Ah'm worth...that sound about right?"

Angelina stared at him disbelieving. "Sue you?"

"Yeah, fragger can't even be thankful Ah contacted him at all!" Even though he was annoyed by the human, Jazz was more frustrated at his own reaction to such a tirade by a being that couldn't do anything to him. It was like he just knew what buttons to push or something. Seeing Angelina's disappointment and shock, Jazz realized that she had hoped to hear the man was happy to hear she was alive, which he had been, but that was only the briefest parts of the nearly fifty text messages sent in a very short time. "He said he was happy ta know ya were alive though, so Ah guess mission accomplished, eh?"

"Sorry, Jazz. I didn't think he'd react like that." She was a little shocked, but she wasn't afraid that John would carry through with the threats. After all, what could he do to a robot? "He can't actually do any of that, can he?"

"No. Don't worry about it." Jazz easily slid on a mask of calmness. He may be frustrated, but he didn't need to let the woman know that. "Anyway, how ya been? Ah brought ya some more food." He produced a box from his storage compartment and placed it on the floor near the mini-fridge he had 'borrowed' from one of the human recreation rooms.

"I'm getting better..." she paused to consider her next move. She wanted to see where she was so badly, to get some clue as to how she was going to escape, but in order to do that she either had to get Jazz to tell her, which he had smoothly avoided every time previously, or get him to take her to where she could see for herself. "But it's kind of depressing inside all the time. I need to get some sun, get out for a bit."

Jazz looked nervous for a split second, before that look of confidence returned. "Wouldn't be uh good idea with yer leg still busted."

"Just for a few minutes. It's not like I want to go running a marathon, just sit out in the sun for a while." Angelina held her breath, hoping that Jazz would fall for the pleading look in her eyes. She really did want to go outside for a while, her escape plans held aside. Being indoors with no natural light was completely depressing.

"All right." Jazz was plotting and scheming as he went. He couldn't argue that the woman likely needed some fresh air and some sunlight, apparently humans required some of the natural essences they could absorb from sunlight to stay healthy, and with her trying to recover, it was only logical. _'Logic ain't always the answer, Prowl.'_ The memory played out for him without warning, taking him momentarily off guard. _'Neither is chaos, Jazz. Sometimes you must give into the rationality of logic.'_

"Jazz?" Angelina couldn't believe her eyes. If it were possible for a robot to go pale, she was pretty sure she had just seen it. "What? Is something wrong?"

"No." Without any further word, the mech closed the doors to Angelina's 'home' and latched them. "Ah'll be back in uh bit...gotta work somethin' out." Jazz rushed from his quarters into the main corridor, his spark pulsing hard in his spark-chamber, like it was trying to rip out of him.

This wasn't the first time he had thought about Prowl since his deactivation – he thought of the mech almost every day – but this was the first time the memories had rushed up on him without any prelude. Usually he had at least a few kliks either to divert his thoughts, or to prepare for the wave of grief he would feel with it.

"Jazz?" Optimus was beside him, one hand holding up the smaller mech. When had he started to fall? "Jazz, what is wrong?"

"Nothin', Ah'm fine." He pushed away from his Prime and leader, his vents cycling as fast as they could, trying to cool his suddenly overheated systems.

"You almost fell..."

"Ah said Ah'm fine!" He snapped angrily. Honestly, he really didn't care that he was talking to Optimus Prime, that he was being insubordinate, or just plain rude for that matter. "Leave meh alone!" His spark hurt as badly as it had that orn, that very nano-klik he had realized that Prowl was deactivated and was never going to come back. His processor wasn't running right, he felt confused and angry. He had never understood how Prowl had survived so much in the war only to be taken down so easily. It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, it wasn't _logical_. _'Logic ain't always the answer...'_

"Ratchet will help you, Jazz." Optimus was close to him again, talking in his audio as if he didn't want others around them to hear. He was leaning on the Prime while the much larger mech nearly carried him through the hallways toward the med bay.

"Ah said Ah'm fine!" He roared as he pushed away again, stumbling as his processor sent mixed commands to his legs. He was stuck somewhere between just wanting to shut down and wanting to run forever. His body didn't know how to respond to the strange signals from his processor – trying to accommodate both desires at the same moment – and left him struggling for balance.

"If you were fine," Ironhide growled as he dragged the struggling saboteur back to his feet, "you wouldn't be floppin' on the floor like a mega-glitch." Despite his rough handling, and gruff voice, Ironhide was worried. Jazz was a graceful mech. If there was a picture in the Cybertronian definition of grace and smoothness, Jazz was it. To see him so uncoordinated and seemingly out of control was not only appalling, but terrifying as well. "You're going to see Ratchet if I have to shoot you to get you there."

"That will not be necessary, Ironhide." Optimus was on the other side of Jazz now, and strung between the two much larger mechs, Jazz had to admit that there was no arguing. Maybe if he was thinking clearly; if his processor would quit confusing the rest of his systems, if his spark would slow down just half a pulse for one breem; then maybe he could show them just what he could do to protest this treatment, but he couldn't.

Jazz hardly perceived the time between when he had been picked up off the floor, and when he had been deposited on a medical berth and Ratchet started demanding answers of him. What had he done? What had he consumed in the last orn? Had he injured himself at some point and hadn't told anyone? He knew the medic was just trying to figure out what was causing his current condition, but it was annoying when all Jazz wanted was a few breams to himself to recover.

"Search his quarters," Ratchet demanded of the two mechs hovering nearby waiting for some answer. "See if there's anything there." They all knew the CMO was implying that Jazz had found some consumable substance that his systems weren't handling.

"No!" Jazz tried to rise, only to find that he had been restrained. When had that happened?

"Why not?" Ratchet's tone was cold, demanding. "What will we find there, Jazz?"

Panic hit the saboteur. All the orns of letting everyone know he had some 'project' was about to bite him in the aft. They _knew_ there was something there that he didn't want them to see, and now he had given them more than enough reason to go and look for themselves. He was sure he could talk them out of it if his processor would just stop spinning in circles for a bream. "Please, jus' don't."

That sealed it for Optimus and Ironhide. With a nod to Ratchet indicating they would inform him of whatever they found, they left the med bay and its occupants to the impending argument they knew would take place. Jazz never begged for anything.

* * *

Optimus barely had the door locks released before Ironhide was bursting into Jazz's quarters. They were both hoping for the same thing; to find nothing more than some high-grade that they could scold the smaller mech for abusing, but knowing better. Jazz was one who could drink the best under the table and still walk away in a straight line. The other options though, were hardly something they wanted to think of.

"You think he's losing it?" Ironhide asked after a cursory search that produced nothing.

"No." Optimus didn't care what it looked like. He would not give up hope on Jazz until there was absolutely no other option.

"Then what do you think is going on?"

Optimus vented heavily. He had wondered that from the very klik Jazz had come racing into the commons area looking as though he had just seen the most terrifying thing he had ever seen; which in and of itself was a scary thought – Jazz had seen a lot in his vorns of life. He had only been further confused when Jazz had started to stumble, and then fall. He had been able to hear the saboteur's systems groaning miserably from a distance and had come to see what was wrong, only to reach Jazz in time to keep him from hitting the floor. "I wish I could say. He looked pretty upset."

"Upset?" Ironhide snorted with disbelief, "He looked down right insane."

"Maybe he is finally starting to face his grief."

Neither mech said anything after that. Jazz had gone for vorns with no sign of his grief for Prowl's deactivation aside from the one, spark-rending scream as he lay somewhere between deactivation and functional himself. Everyone assumed he would break one day and grieve, but as each vorn passed, they began to think that he had let his grief eat at him until he just _couldn't_ express it anymore.

"What's this?" Ironhide asked as he tugged at the doors to Jazz's storage unit. "Why would he lock this?"

"Because it is Jazz," Optimus pointed out. The fact that it was a basic lock and not some hyped up, complicated, double combination, super-lock was a bit abnormal – at least Optimus thought – and so decided that whatever was hidden behind was not something that the saboteur was really trying to protect.

It didn't take them long to have the unit open, and what they saw was completely absurd.

"A dollhouse?" Ironhide questioned, not believing his own optics. "What in the Pit would he make a dollhouse for?"

Scanning the area, both mechs came to the conclusion that there was nothing out of place, other than the fact that there was essentially a functional human apartment in Jazz's storage unit.

"There are far worse hobbies he could have taken up." Optimus said finally. It didn't matter _why_ Jazz had done it, but it was a sign that at least the mech had found something to do with some of his skills. It was far better than the slow atrophy he had seemed to take up. "Let's leave everything as we found it." He closed up the storage unit dollhouse and returned the lock to it as it had been before they had come along. There was nothing else in Jazz's quarters to explain his strange behavior, and that left them with little hope for what might be happening to the mech.

* * *

Angelina crept slowly along the walls. She decided, after Jazz had left her so suddenly, that maybe biding her time was not the way to go. If the robot was malfunctioning, there was no telling _what_ he might do and she was pretty sure she didn't want to be a part of it.

She debated about just looking for someone – a human – to ask for help, to alert to the actions of their robot, but she was also afraid they might just accuse her of sneaking into their facility to garner secrets to sell off to the highest bidder. Besides that, there were no people in this strangely large 'hallway'. It was like it was designed for large vehicles to maneuver easily...maybe even for large planes to fly in, the ceiling was certainly high enough for it.

For a moment she wondered if she would even be able to open a door that would lead into such a massive structure, but she had found a way out of the robot's room – which she had decided was far more like a barren bedroom than a storage place for a military device – and she was sure she could find a similar way out of this building.

Loud 'thudding' sounds, like someone very large walking, drew her attention to the hall behind her. Angelina gasped as she watched two more robots walking from the room she had escaped not too long before. They were so much larger than Jazz, she could hardly believe she had thought him big at all now. Their voices rumbled in deep tones as they walked away from her. Angelina could only think enough to be grateful that wherever they were going, it was in the opposite direction she had chosen.

Without waiting another moment, Angelina hurried on as fast as her already aching leg would allow her. She had to get out of this place where giant robots roamed freely. This was far more terrifying than she had thought in the first place.

* * *

Jazz was uneasy. Ironhide and Optimus hadn't said anything about what they had found in his quarters and he was sure that there was no chance of them not discovering Angelina. A part of him had been relieved that his big secret might finally be out, but most of him was afraid that they would take her away from him. He didn't know at what point he had decided that she belonged there with him, but he didn't want her to be gone, ever. He had saved her. She was alive because he hadn't given up on her like her own race had. He wanted to keep her safe for as long as she would live, and the best way to do that was to keep her where she wouldn't come to harm that he couldn't fix easily; to keep her in his quarters, in his storage unit, safe and healthy.

When Ratchet had released him from the med bay with only the instructions that if he felt anything abnormal he was to return immediately, and that the medic was always available if Jazz just needed someone to talk to, Jazz was further confused. They were treating him like a fragile sparkling, not like mech who had hidden a human away in his storage unit for safekeeping.

He returned to his room with little hope of finding Angelina still there. What happened, he wasn't sure, but there was no way the woman could still be there. So, with defeated motions, he opened the storage unit to find it empty as expected. However, he immediately noticed the hole in one of the walls that would have been a perfect size for the human woman to slip through. It only took his processor a few kliks to put together a scenario; Angelina must have been scared of Ironhide and Optimus when she heard them come in, and had tried to get somewhere safe. She didn't know about any other Autobots after all – Jazz had gone along with her belief that he was some human built smart car/robot/thing and hadn't bothered to explain that there was a whole race of his kind and that they were far beyond any human construction.

Searching his quarters, he easily concluded that the woman wasn't there. She must have found her way out of the unit and left using the human access door that was set into every room – one of the military's conditions to allowing them to build a barracks to accommodate them. From there she had to of traveled down the hall away from the commons area, or someone would have likely seen her.

'Ah just hope no one stepped on her,' he thought to himself as he rushed down the halls searching for any sign of the human.

* * *

Angelina felt tired. She felt weak, and her head was getting cloudy. By now, the drumbeat pounding of her heart had become the only sound she could hear, and her leg hurt so badly she could barely think of anything else. 'Why did I think this was a good idea?' She wondered dejectedly. 'I knew I wasn't ready...'

"There ya are!" Jazz saw the woman leaning heavily on the wall. At first, he thought she was just standing there, but as he got closer, he could see she was moving forward at a very slow pace. "What are ya doin'?" He leaned down and gently scooped the woman up.

"I want to go home," Angelina croaked. She was aware that the robot that had picked her up, but her thoughts had reached such a point of drowned in pain and exhaustion that she couldn't muster the energy to care.

"H-home? But yer still hurt...ya barely made it halfway down the hall an' ya look like yer about to offline! How can ya go home?" Looking around to be sure no one had seen him, or the human he was now cupping closely to his chest, Jazz set a quick pace back to his quarters.

"I just want to go home." She felt the familiarity of the bed she had been given by her giant robot caregiver – she preferred to think of him as simply a caregiver, it was far less terrifying than 'kidnapper'.

Jazz laid her on the bed in the little home he had created for the human. His processor said that she was right. She needed to return to her home, to her own life. He needed to 'set her free' as the phrase went. Yet another, much less logical and far more emotional part of him screamed 'No!', after all, even wild animals had to heal before they could be released. "Yer still hurt..." he mumbled again. It was a flimsy excuse at best, but it was the one he clung to. He had promised to help her get better, how could he just let her go without fulfilling his promise?

Angelina let her exhaustion win over and started to doze. There was no way she was going to make any more progress today – her escape had failed and now Jazz knew she was capable. Likely next time would be much harder. Her impatience, her fear, had ruined her chances. What was she going to do now? If only she could contact someone.

Jazz watched as the woman slept. She wasn't happy – he could see that now, but still...why would she want to leave? Had he not made her stay pleasant enough that she would not want to stay where she was safe and cared for at least until she was healthy again? What had he not given her?

'Freedom,' a small voice in the back of his processor whispered.

'Her people gave up on her,' he protested silently, 'Ah'm only tryin' ta help.'

'You cannot save her in a box,' the voice spoke back, 'and you know it.'

'Only until she's better...' he was okay with that. After all, he only had the best intentions for her. He only wanted to help. He would hand deliver her back to her home once she was healthy again, if that's what she wanted.

'Who are you to choose for her?' The voice pushed. Jazz hated the feelings that voice – however tiny it was – made him feel. It reminded him of the way Prowl used to lecture him about some of the more foolish notions he had. He needed some other influence on this one-sided conversation.

::Ratch?::

::Jazz?:: The medic sounded surprised and somewhat concerned. ::What is it?::

::Ah had uh question Ah hoped ya could give me uh professional opinion on.::

::Of course.::

He didn't respond right away. Ratchet was willing to answer his questions, but was he really willing to ask them?

Angelina moaned pathetically in her sleep; she sounded as though she were weeping, but did not have the strength to actually weep. He wondered if he had done her wrong by saving her; by bringing her here instead of taking her to a medical facility that could treat her properly; by not returning her to her home now.

::Jazz?::

::Sometimes...:: he faltered with his words, though he wasn't sure why. ::Sometimes ya gotta do somethin' fer someone, even if they don' want ya to.::

::That is a hazard of my job, Jazz. Most 'bots do not want me to do for them what I have to do, but it is for their own good. What does this have to do with your question?::

::If you had ta help someone get better, someone who was really hurt, but they wanted ta leave, what would ya do?::

This time it was the medic who took a while to answer. ::I would do my best to convince them that what I was doing for them was the best route to a proper recovery, but I would also have to take into consideration the stress of being forced to remain...here...could cause them. What...:: Ratchet's hesitation seemed as though he had caught his words a moment too late. ::Jazz...are you thinking of leaving?::

::Nah,:: he laughed a little. It was a good feeling, a real feeling. ::Y'all ain't gettin' rid o' meh that easy.::

* * *

"That makes no sense Ratchet." Ironhide paced irritably from one side of the med bay to the other. "Why would he ask something like that if he didn't have some scheme lurking in his processor?"

It was the same question the CMO had asked himself at least twenty times since Jazz's seemingly impromptu question. "He sounded serious."

"Jazz...serious?"

"Serious for him," Ratchet amended. "I really don't thing leaving is his intention. I thing there is something else to this that we're missing."

"Missing? The only thing missing is his damn processor!"

"Do you really believe that, Ironhide?" Optimus spoke for the first time since they had gathered in the med bay. He had also believed that what Ratchet had relayed to them was Jazz's way of indicating he had a desire to leave them. Maybe it would have been for the best. After all, he had shown some improvement since they had allowed him to be on his own for some time. Maybe if he left them, he could find what it was he needed to finally come back to himself – which was more important than anything else at this point.

Ironhide stopped his pacing to glare at Optimus. "He's losing it, Optimus. Losing. It." He took two large steps to face his friend and leader optic to optic. "The weird things he says? The way he acts? The way he ignores us half the time, then begs..." Ironhide was still disturbed by the desperation in Jazz's voice when he had asked them not to search his quarters. "He built a fraggin' dollhouse, Optimus! You saw it with your own optics."

"I saw," Optimus agreed. "I have heard." He was less sure that Jazz was losing his sanity than the weapons specialist, even if he had to agree with him on many points. "However, I do not believe that it is as simple as that."

"Because that's simple!" Ironhide was frustrated and confused, and that always made him angry. He hated not having a simple path to follow – facts, answers, goals, missions, or things that he could solve by disposing of them in the most explosive way possible.

"Ironhide..." Ratchet had all the same information of Jazz's odd behaviors as the other two did. He knew of the strange hobby Jazz had seemingly taken up. He knew of the way the mech snapped at people almost randomly. Insanity did seem like the answer to their friends growing peculiar behavior, but he didn't believe that it was the answer either. "Jazz is seeking help for something. Even if he isn't being straightforward with us, he _is_ seeking help. His questions seem odd to us because we don't know what leads to them. We can't see into his processor to know what is there."

Resuming his pacing, Ironhide grumbled something to the effect that he hoped the medic was right. They had lost so many friends along the way, he really didn't want to lose another one. Especially not when he was watching it happening and could do nothing to stop it.

"I have to agree with Ratchet." Optimus turned away from Ironhide's pacing – even his patience was wearing thin. "Jazz is asking for help. The question I have to pose though, is for who?"

* * *

Angelina woke sometime later. She wasn't sure how long she had been out, and at first, she didn't even know where she was. It seemed as though every throb of her leg brought back more memories until she was finally caught up. She had wasted her one chance to get away. Not only that but the only things she had to show for her efforts were weeks of healing undone by pushing herself before she was ready.

With a pained groan, she sat up, something in her abdomen ached horribly. All together, she felt pretty wretched.

She looked around and saw that the 'doors' to her strange little apartment were open and that she had a clear view of her keeper.

Jazz was in his recharge mode – or at least that's what she was assuming by his relaxed position and the fact that the lights of his eyes were out. She had never actually seen the robot in his off mode; it actually made her think he looked more...human. To see him so seemingly open, that bubble of eternal confidence dissipated for the time being, revealing something far baser. She could almost believe that he was more than just a robot with a program that made him seem sentient. She could almost believe that he had troubles of his own. Or, maybe the pain was making her believe things that couldn't be true. Who knew?

Whatever it may have been, she could only think of one thing clearly – the doors were open which meant she had another chance at escape.

Bearing the pain in her abdomen with a muted groan, she forced herself to her feet. She stumbled and almost fell several times just trying to reach the edge of the floor she was on. It was a short drop to the next level, she was sure she could make it.

The jarring sensation she felt when she hit the ground was far worse than anything she could have imagined. Sure, her first escape had required some pain tolerance, she had agitated her injuries quite a bit, but this? This was beyond her.

She cried out as she writhed on the floor, waking her mechanical caregiver.

Jazz was up like a bolt at the cry of pain. He scooped the woman up off the floor, only briefly wondering how she had ended up there, but was more concerned with the fact that she was still crying out. Angelina was in a lot of pain and he had no idea what to do for her. He couldn't even tell what was wrong with her – she was holding her midsection and twisting around in ways he wasn't sure how to read. All of it told him that she was in trouble, and he had to do something.

* * *

Ratchet could only stare at the state of his storage room. Containers were toppled, supplies were strung everywhere, bottles were broken, fluids dripped to the floor – it was a complete disaster.

"What the Pit happened here?" He shouted, his temper outweighing his confusion. Why would someone trash his medical supplies? What purpose could it have served? This was beyond a prank. He was about to demand everyone come into the med bay so he could search them – quite extensively if need be – for evidence of this crime when he noted a print in the fluids that had puddled on the ground. It was a rather small print, and whoever had left it had obviously been in a hurry, judging by the slip marks.

He followed the moisture trail from the med bay to the Autobot quarters – all the way to Jazz's door.

The medic stood there, staring at the door somewhat dumbfounded. Jazz had trashed his storage room? Destroyed supplies that were nearly as precious to them as the energon in their systems? That was only not like the mech, it was so beyond what Ratchet would ever expect from him that he was having a hard time convincing himself that he had followed the evidence to this point. Surely it had to have been someone else.

Activating his medical override code, Ratchet prepared himself to see almost anything. Maybe Jazz had been injured and was trying to care for himself without alerting anyone – however unusual that was, it was more believable than thinking the mech had purposefully destroyed much needed medical supplies. Little did he know what he would find was so far beyond what he could ever expect.

* * *

Jazz walked into his quarters, not expecting anything, but finding someone waiting for him. He stood in the doorway staring, without comprehension of why Ratchet was sitting on his berth.

"H-hey, Ratch...what's goin' on?" He didn't know if he wanted to enter the room – shutting the door behind him, cutting himself off from a quick escape from the medic – or to just run for it now, and face the consequences later.

"Jazz." The medic fixed the saboteur with a knowing look. "She's dying."

'Deny it, deny it, deny it...' his processor screamed at him, while his spark whispered; 'it's true, it's true, it's true...' "What are ya talkin' about?"

Ratchet had expected denial. He had expected a violent outburst. He had expected the mech to run. He had expected whatever it was that the smooth-talking mech could have done. This was one of the easier to deal with options.

Instead of arguing, or trying to get Jazz to admit the truth, Ratchet stood and walked to Jazz's storage unit. "What is her name?"

'Don't say anything!' His processor screamed, still, his spark begged silently for something different. "Angelina."

Ratchet nodded. He had surmised as much. "The human you were assigned to guard." It wouldn't take much to overcome the lock on the doors, to rip open the storage unit and pull the human free of her, albeit luxurious, prison. He could do it. He should do it. "If I don't see it, I don't have to report it." He didn't look at Jazz. The medic didn't want to see what was going on in the mech's processor. "She needs medical assistance, Jazz. Soon." With that, he left the mech in his quarters to make his decisions. He would wait as long as he could before he reported what he now knew to be true. 'If I don't see it, I don't have to report it,' he told himself again.

Jazz stood in complete bewilderment for some time. How had Ratchet found out? Why hadn't he immediately reported it to Optimus? Why was he giving him the chance to avoid the punishment for what he had done? 'Ah haven't done anythin' wrong!' He screamed at himself in his processor as he crept toward the storage unit.

He had known Angelina wasn't recovering like she should. The way she seemed to struggle with every small improvement was obscenely frustrating, but dying? Maybe her fall had done more damage than he thought.

"Angel?" His hands trembled as he opened the doors to his storage unit. "Ah'm back..." She was there, as he had left her. She looked a little more pale, a little more worn down, but she was okay. She was still breathing, still alive. She couldn't be dying. She just couldn't.

* * *

Days had passed. Ratchet had hoped, given time, Jazz would do the right thing and return the human to some obscure medical facility, but he had not.

Even now, as he walked a slow pace down the hall to Optimus's office, he hoped that he would have some reason to believe Jazz would do the right thing before it was too late. He could have just commed Optimus, told him the truth of it all and Jazz would be in lock-down before Ratchet could close the link, but that wasn't what he wanted.

::Jazz, I am on my way to Optimus's office,:: he was warning the saboteur that his chance had run out. He was giving Jazz the opportunity to do...something. Anything, really.

For some reason the maintained silence on the link he had opened with Jazz bothered him. ::Jazz?:: Still nothing. ::Jazz, respond.:: He spun around, his destination changing. ::Has anyone seen Jazz?:: The general comm practically buzzed with his question, his demand for someone to answer him punctuating the silence.

::What's going on?:: Ironhide asked, already on high alert and seeking some sign of the saboteur.

::Have you seen him?::

::No...:: The weapons specialist had a sinking feeling in his spark. ::What is going on?::

Ratchet didn't want to answer because he didn't know. ::He's not responding to my comm.::

Most of the beings on the base currently had no clue as to what Jazz's disappearance could mean – other than perhaps he was up to something, but Optimus, Ironhide, and Ratchet had been following the mech's odd behavior close enough to know that something was wrong. Only Ratchet knew of his true secrets, and he worried more over what the mech may have done. 'I was afraid he had become too attached to that human...what if she's dead? I waited too long.'

::Where was he last seen?:: Optimus called out, his voice demanding answers immediately from anyone who could give them.

There was silence for quite some time before anyone responded. ::There were some reports of a vehicle leaving early this morning...:: It was one of the humans responding over a link the Autobots had set up for them. ::The crew on duty at the time noted it, but it hadn't seemed like anything of much importance at the time.::

::Because vehicles go speeding out of here in the middle of the night all the time!:: Ironhide snarled angrily.

::Actually...you guys leave here in a hurry all the time,:: the same man answered, ::for everything.::

None of them could argue with that. Their general pace for things was something the humans tended to call 'rushed', so how would they have known the difference between a mech off for duty, and a mech running?

::Which way did he go?:: Ratchet asked, something akin to despair filling his tanks. What if Jazz had actually run? Then what would they do? If he had just done what he should have done...

::He headed toward the city. We're not getting any readings from him, he's turned off his link with the computers.::

::He's not answering me either,:: Ratchet informed them. ::I...::

::We'll find him.:: Ironhide interrupted, not really wanting to know why Ratchet had been trying to contact the saboteur. All he wanted to know was where Jazz was, and that he was okay. Nothing else.

Optimus, on the other hand, had taken Ratchet's guilty tone as an open door to the truth yet unrevealed. ::What happened?:: He asked on a private link.

::I found out what his secret was...I thought I had done the right thing, but I think I may have only left him open for more harm.:: Ratchet met up with the Autobot leader as they both entered the same hall.

Optimus had _that_ look; the one that said he had been afraid there was more to the situation than what he was being told, the one that said he was disappointed in his subordinates – but that he did not blame them, the look that said that he had known he should have done more. "Optimus..." Ratchet loved the way his friend seemed to be able to take the weight of everything on his shoulders, and bare it with such graceful pride that any in his shadow could only marvel, but sometimes he hated it too. "It was that human femme we assigned him to."

* * *

Jazz raced through the streets, his spark twisting and his processor racing. To the Pits, he had thought he had saved her, but he hadn't. He had done nothing but drag out her suffering. Why hadn't he just done what Ratchet had said? The medic knew the truth after all, and he knew what was best. He never would have given Jazz the opportunity to do the right thing if he had though he would have ignored it. 'Ah'm uh fool!' He berated himself.

Why had he let himself become so blind to his own emotions that he couldn't see what was the right thing to do? 'Because you are afraid,' his tiny little voice whispered. 'You were afraid it was going to end up being like losingProwl. But what good did it do? Now you've lost her, too. You can't save anyone.'

'She's not gone yet!' He pushed for more speed. Slag the 'speed limit', this was an emergency. "Hang on Angel, Ah'm gonna get ya help...Ah'll make up fer what Ah did...Ah swear."

Opening a link to a public communications system, Jazz connected with the local hospital. He reported that he was coming in with an unconscious woman who needed immediate attention, he gave them a rough description of the injuries he knew of, and gave a brief history of her treatments.

Then he opened one more connection in basic text format and sent a short message: She will be at the hospital.

* * *

Ratchet headed the convoy with his lights blaring, his guilt pushing his normal obedience of the speed limit. Ironhide and Optimus weren't far behind.

Once Ratchet had told him what he had found, and what he had done, Optimus had told the medic that he would have likely done the same. It was true, to some point, though he doubted he would have waited as long.

Jazz wanted to save the human, that much had been clear, but why had he so stubbornly kept her hidden away? Why hadn't he asked someone for help? They would have given it. Then again, Ratchet had said he thought that some of Jazz's actions had been him seeking help for something, they just hadn't known how to read it – or at least, not completely. Ratchet had suspected. It was all so confusing, and the only thing it came down to now was that Jazz had gone off and they weren't entirely sure why, or what would come of it.

::Jazz, respond.:: Optimus had the order on a constant feed, hoping that the saboteur would eventually just grow so annoyed with it he would say _something_. ::Jazz, respond.:: They weren't entirely sure where they were going once they reached the town, but Ratchet had seemed to think that he had an idea. It was their only lead right now, so that was where they would go.

::Why would he go to that out of the way place, when there's a perfectly functional medical facility close to base?:: Ironhide finally asked. The question had been burning in his processor since Ratchet had given him the short story of what had happened.

::Because it would have been suspicious,:: Ratchet answered somewhat annoyed. He understood what Ironhide was asking, he just didn't really want to explain his thought process right now. If Jazz had actually gone to get the woman help, and she wasn't dead, he was going to have to drop her off and make an escape before authority could be called. He was sure that one look at the woman would have the staff full of suspicions, and it was more likely that he could get away from an out of the way, small hospital that would require most of the staff's attention to care for the woman than one that was large enough to spare someone specifically to detain him until the authorities could arrive. Of course, this was assuming the human was alive. All of this could be nothing more than a hopeful guess.

* * *

There were people waiting for him when Jazz pulled up to the rather small hospital. They practically ripped his door off trying to get to her. It wasn't until she was safely taken away inside the hospital that he was able to take in a bit of his surroundings.

"You..." A somewhat familiar voice growled as a man came from seemingly nowhere up to Jazz's alt mode.

His holoform had been a reflex, after all, the staff here probably would have been pretty put off by a car that drove its self, but now he was supremely thankful that he had grown so accustomed ` to just making it. He made the image get out and stand between himself and the man. "Can Ah help ya?"

"What right do you have to have kept her hidden away? What were _thinking_? Are you insane, or just stupid?" The man got really close to Jazz's holoform, but never touched him. "If she dies, it's on your head. I'm pressing charges."

"Pressin' charges? Ya really think tha's gonna work, John?" Jazz sighed heavily. Honestly, he couldn't blame the man for being angry if he honestly cared about Angelina, but he couldn't get over that first encounter. "Ya ever heard th' sayin' 'People in glass houses'?"

"What's that supposed to mean? What did you do to her?"

"Ah saved her life." Of all the times Jazz had ever wanted to break orders, to show that he was something more than what the being facing him thought, now was it. "Ah pulled her from uh wreck, where she was left fer 'someone who has uh chance', Ah did what Ah could ta save her life and Ah..." this was the part that he was just now realizing, and it was hard to face let alone to admit aloud, "Ah messed up by thinkin' Ah could save her."

"You messed up...yeah...you sure did." John walked away from Jazz, a wry grin on his face. Jazz was sure the man wasn't actually smiling, that it was a look of barely restrained anger, but either way he was somewhat impressed the man walked away from him.

Jazz stood there for a while before he made the illusion of his holoform walk around and get back in his alt mode. Part of him wanted to just sit there and wait to see if Angelina lived, part of him wanted to start driving away and never turn back – ever. His processor screamed at him to just shut his systems down and let be what may, yet his spark begged for him to find someone he could talk to, break down to, that would listen and understand. He wanted to grieve.

The faint wailing of a siren was the motivation he needed to move. He still wasn't sure what he was going to do, but he couldn't sit here and take the chance he would make life miserable for the rest of the Autobots – for the last of those that were dear to him.

As Jazz drove away, his spark heavy with the thought that he had possibly caused irreparable harm to the woman he had grown so possessive of, a thought occurred to him. How had John known Angelina would be delivered to this particular hospital?

* * *

Ratchet flew through the small hospital's lot as though he might very well be on fire. His scanners had started searching a full fifteen miles before they had reached the building, and he had gotten a pip of a signature that matched Jazz's, but it was gone now.

::He was here,:: he reported as the other two came rolling in behind him.

::How do you know?:: Ironhide wanted to believe that they were on Jazz's trail, but at the same time, he was concerned that they might simply be chasing ghosts.

::I got a signal. It was only a klik, but it was there.::

They did not linger long, but it was long enough for Ratchet to pick up a familiar biosignal. The human woman was here, and she was alive. 'Thank Primus.' If nothing else, that meant that Jazz wasn't going to have to face charges for her death.

::Split up. We will stand better chances of finding him if we spread out our search from here.:: Optimus picked a direction and drove off, Ironhide and Ratchet following suit. ::I will notify the base to alert us if he returns there.::

* * *

The sun had set hours before, and Optimus had sent out the call to return to base. Wherever Jazz had gone, it seemed they would not likely catch up to him this night.

Ratchet had reluctantly turned for home when the same pip from before hit his sensors. ::Jazz?:: He called out hopefully. There was no answer; however, the pip remained on his scanners. ::Optimus,:: he called to the Autobot leader using a private link. If Jazz was there and listening, he didn't want to scare him off accidentally. ::I think I've found him. Give me a few breems, let me see if he will talk.::

::All right. Report as soon as you can.:: There was a moment hesitation before Optimus continued. ::At least tell us if he is well.::

::I will.:: Ratchet followed the signal, finding it odd that it wasn't moving, and dreading why. He was relieved to see the mech sitting behind a tree, head leaning back with optics fixed on the stars, one leg straight out, the other bent to support the weight of an arm. "Jazz?" Ratchet transformed and came to stand beside the saboteur. His medical scans showed the mech to be functioning within tolerance, even if his spark was pulsing a bit slower than it should, or that his intakes were only running at half speed. The mech had likely been sitting for quite some time, so his slower functions could be expected. "Are you all right?"

"She alive?"

Ratchet didn't have to ask who, or why Jazz would think he knew. "Yes, the human survived. It seems her prognosis is good."

"Good."

::Optimus, Ironhide, I've got him. He's physically fine.::

::Mentally?:: Ironhide's voice held none of his usual snap; he was done being angry for now. He had spent all his energy searching and worrying, he had none left for ill temper.

::Not sure yet. It will be a while.::

::Keep us informed.:: Optimus was thankful that the saboteur had been found undamaged. Now if only they could recover their friend from the depths of whatever emotional ravine he had fallen into.

They stayed as they were for some time, Jazz looking sightlessly up at the sky, Ratchet observing Jazz.

"Ah just wanted ta save her," Jazz finally broke the silence. "Ah thought that if Ah could save her that maybe it would prove somethin'. That maybe Ah could protect someone."

"Jazz," Ratchet sighed, "I can't say I know how you feel – we all have to deal with what happens to us. This all goes back to Prowl, doesn't it? You feel guilty about his deactivation?"

Jazz didn't speak.

"We all knew you took it really hard, but I guess we never thought that you might feel responsible. There was absolutely nothing you could have done to help him, Jazz. I saw what Motormaster did to the both of you...we almost lost you both." Ratchet shivered at the memory. It had been a horrible scene to come into – they had lost several good 'bots that day, but none in such a gruesome way as they had lost Prowl, and had almost lost Jazz as well.

"He told meh that sometimes chaos wasn't th' answer...that had been one o' those times. If Ah had listened, if Ah had done what he had planned...we'd both still be here."

The trials of war were not fair. They were not balanced and measured, or designed to draw out the best or worst of a being. They were harsh and unforgiving. "Do you remember that plan he had?" Ratchet had been there for the briefing, it was the only reason he had been able to reach Jazz in time to save him. He had known Prowl's plans, and though he didn't remember it fully now, he did recall one, very important thing. "There were two teams in Prowl's original plan. Yours and the recovery team."

"Yeah, Ah remember."

"You remember why you jumped out there, why you disobeyed Prowl's orders?"

Jazz had thought it over at least half a million times since that orn. He couldn't, not for any bit of memory he had, recall why he had led his team out to face the Decepticons prematurely.

Shaking his head a little, Jazz dreaded hearing what Ratchet was about to say.

"The recovery team had gone out to provide aid to a team that had been stranded, a team that had some rather important members in it." Ratchet shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He hated remembering that orn. "The team had been discovered long before your team had reached the rendezvous, they were being slaughtered. You, Prowl, and Cliffjumper had broken formation to reach them. You ran to their aid because Prowl's carefully laid plans had been wrong."

"...Prowl was never wrong..."

"He's the one to comm in the change of plans, Jazz. He ordered the change."

"He'd never have done that..."

"Unless?"

Jazz had known Prowl better than any other 'bot. Prowl was careful, he was thorough, he was smart, and he was logical to a point of insane. The only times he had been known to change his plans was when things didn't go the way they should have, when things weren't logical. "Unless somethin' chaotic happened."

"Motormaster happened."

_'Chaos is not always the answer, Jazz...' _the tactician's voice spoke in a long forgotten memory, _'however, when it is the answer, you are the master at its center.'_


End file.
